


i saw you in the water

by LouLa



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Feral TK is canon, Local Legend Travis Konecny, M/M, Nature as a main character, Nolan Patrick is a gay epiphany, Not Hockey Players (Hockey RPF), Outdoor Sex, very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21926368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouLa/pseuds/LouLa
Summary: “Why are you always collecting my garbage like a weird, violent crow?” Nolan asks, bewildered.Travis doesn’t have an answer for that, he just shoves at Nolan’s face instead.**(au where neither of these two good Canadian boys plays professional hockey. Travis's family owns a sporting goods store and Nolan's family moves in next door.)
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 54
Kudos: 682





	i saw you in the water

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks and much love to Mathab for always enduring me. This fic couldn't and wouldn't exist without her.
> 
> Title from Cringe by Matt Maeson
> 
> Any and all mistakes herein are my own.

“Did you see we have new neighbors?”

His mom’s not talking to him, but Travis sidles up next to her and looks out the window to check it out anyway. There’s a woman standing out in the front yard across from their house in a robe open way down to here and cut up to there, a cigarette dangling out of the side of her mouth, and her hair in curlers. Travis stares openly.

“When did that happen?” his dad asks, joining them at the window.

“I heard them in the middle of the night,” Chase adds, spilling orange juice on Travis’s shirt when he tries to squeeze in too. Travis elbows him back.

“Hmm,” his mom hums, looking over Travis’s head at his dad, who shrugs in answer.

The house across from theirs is a huge monstrosity. It sticks out like a sore thumb in their community, twice the size of everyone else’s and brand new in their otherwise pretty standard suburban neighborhood. The houses aren’t crammed in on top of each other, everyone’s got a fair bit of space to themselves but that house stands out, garish and overstated. It had been on the market for months and months, no one interested in its half-a-mil price tag in a mediocre part of town. It’s weird that someone bought it now and moved in without warning in the middle of the night.

The woman collects a rolled up newspaper out of the lawn and walks to the street, looking both ways down the dead quiet road before glancing across to catch all of the Konecnys gathered around the front window gawking at her.

“Awkward,” Travis mutters, shuffling away while his mom just smiles and waves, casual as anything.

—

Travis is busy dragging the nets out of the garage while a bunch of the local kids scream at each other as they’re supposed to be dividing up into teams. “Hey,” he yells over the cacophony. “Go find a couple balls in the yard,” he tells them, watching as a few splinter off to go search. Murph is always getting a hold of their street hockey balls and chewing on them out in the middle of the lawn. He grabs an armful of sticks and tosses them into a pile in the driveway for the kids to fight over and goes to set up the nets.

It takes them a solid ten more minutes to finally decide on their teams, Travis alternating between scrolling through Instagram on his phone and paying attention to make sure none of the little shits try to leave out any of the smaller kids or one of the girls. All in all, they’re pretty good kids and even the tiny six year old redhead from a few houses down gets a spot on the roster. Travis plays both sides, helping out by blocking some of the bigger, bossier kids to give the small ones a chance to shoot on the goalie.

He’s stickhandling around a twelve year old who thinks he’s the shit when a pair of legs catch his attention. He’s about to chirp the guy for his too short, too tight shorts but then Travis meets his incredibly blue eyes and the words die on his lips as he promptly trips over a child and eats the tar right there in front of God and all his children. Travis rolls over and looks up the set of long legs standing over him and tries not to swallow his tongue.

“Ya good?” the guy asks, his voice all deep and manly, a juxtaposition to the softest hair Travis has ever seen settled behind his ears.

There’s a kid prodding at Travis’s knee which is definitely bleeding and Travis uses his stick to knock the kid away—gently—and levers himself up. He’s disconcerted to realize he basically comes up to the guy’s neck. “Yeah, fine,” he mumbles.

The guy sits down on the curb and drops a pair of rollerblades beside him with a clack. He must be part of the new ensemble that just moved in, Travis certainly hasn’t seen him around before—he’d remember. He’s staring up at Travis while Travis stands there like an idiot saying nothing. He toes the set of skates. “I can show you the best places to skate, if you want,” he says.

Tall Guy blinks up at him, grabs his rollerblades and starts to cram his feet into them. “I’ll figure it out.”

Travis shrugs and walks away. He steals the ball from the cocky kid again and roofs it on their struggling goalie, doesn’t look over to see if the new guy is impressed.

_Told you_, Travis thinks twenty minutes later when the guy comes skating back with a scuff on his chin and one of the neighborhood dogs trotting behind him. Travis is still at it with the kids, crusted blood pulling at his scraped knee every time he bends it, as the guy skates past up to his house without acknowledging them.

The dog steals their last remaining ball, and Travis and half of the pack of kids chase him a block before giving up, calling it a day.

—

Travis doesn’t see him again until two days later. He’s laboring away at the sporting goods store where his dad’s got him manning the fishing department when movement catches his eye and he glances up to see the guy in a backwards ball cap, worn-thin gray tee, and a sucker jammed in the side of his mouth.

_This is stupid_, Travis thinks as he pockets his phone, where he’d been texting Law whose got the day off, and follows the guy down the row of fishing poles.

“Help you find anything?” Travis asks.

The guy glances at him, about to say something around the stick of the sucker but then doesn’t and glances at him again. Travis grins. He pulls the sucker out of his mouth, obviously not caring or not realizing how fucking obscene he looks, and says, “Sure. I need a new rod.” He knocks the sucker against Travis’s name tag, tacks on a, “Travis,” then puts the sucker back in his mouth.

“Awesome, here they are,” Travis says, gesturing to the display in front of them.

“Helpful,” the guy mutters.

Travis trails after him as he goes, spouting off every inane detail he can come up with about each pole he picks up. He decides on a middle of the road model and Travis gets him set up with a small tackle box full of the essentials. A tall, broad man with two girls trailing behind him shows up while Travis is showing the guy their selection of fishing vests.

“Let’s go,” he says brusquely, interrupting Travis mid-ramble.

The big man has a fistful of gold rings and a scar marring his eyebrow. He doesn’t wait for a response before turning to go. One of the girls smiles and waggles her fingers at Travis while the other doesn’t look up from her phone. The neighbor guy hangs the vest back onto the rack and mumbles a thanks before he picks up his new rod and tackle set.

Travis grabs his elbow before he gets too far away. “Hey, what’s your name?”

He blinks at Travis’s hold on his elbow, then down at Travis’s face. “Nolan,” he says, breaks Travis’s grasp, and jogs after his group.

_Stupid name_, Travis thinks.

“Dad, can I get a kayak?” he hears Nolan ask once he catches up.

“No,” the big man replies, and then they’re gone.

Travis wanders back toward the department desk and realizes he’s holding the stick from Nolan’s sucker that he must have handed him at some point while trying on the vests. The outer candy shell is all eaten away but the bubble gum center is still perfectly intact. Travis considers if it’s weird only for a second before he pops it in his mouth and chews the gum off the stick. He slips the bare pink-stained stick into his pocket.

—

On his next day off, Travis sits at the table eating breakfast with his mom. His dad and brother have already gone to open up the store. “I’m gonna head to the lake,” he decides. Murphy’s tail thumps happily on the floor beside him at the word ‘lake.’

“Okay, honey,” his mom responds, and while her back is turned, Travis feeds Murph the rest of the eggs off his plate as penance for not taking him with.

“Not today, pal,” he says, patting his golden head. He kisses his mom’s cheek, grabs his keys, and jogs out the door to across the street, sandals slapping loudly against the ground. He knocks on the front door. There’s a camera mounted in the upper corner and he glances at it suspiciously.

The woman from the lawn incident with the curlers and the small robe opens the door. She’s Nolan’s mom, he assumes. “Hi, is Nolan home?”

She turns in the doorway, facing the open room behind her, and yells, “Nolan? Someone’s here for you.”

One of the two girls from the store is halfway down the stairs in her pajamas when she spots him and her eyes go wide before she turns and jogs back up out of sight.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” the mom asks him as they wait.

“Travis Konecny, ma’am. I live across the street.”

“_Ma’am_,” she says, lips curling around the word like it’s something ugly. “Call me Carrie. What do you want with my boy?”

Travis shifts nervously. “Um, nothing?” His voice cracks a little and he clears his throat, trying to shake off the weird feeling he gets from the intense way she’s staring at him. “I’m headed to the lake and wanted to see if he would want to come try out his pole.”

Nolan’s mom grins as though he’s said something funny, but before she can say anything else, Nolan comes barreling around the corner. “Don’t say it,” he mutters, shouldering his way past his mom and out onto the porch.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” she replies primly, still smirking.

“Come on,” Nolan mutters, trotting down the steps. Travis follows him, bewildered.

“You boys have fun with your poles,” Nolan’s mom calls after them, to which he hunches his shoulders, face going red.

Travis turns to wave at her, hollers, “Thanks! Your mom seems nice,” he says to Nolan, jogging after him along the line of flashy cars parked in the driveway.

“Sure,” he says, jamming a code into the security pad on the garage door. He flips a middle finger up at the camera mounted on this door too, and walks into the huge open space.

Travis whistles lowly and the sound echoes through the massive garage. He’s never been back here. The people who owned it before didn’t socialize much on the rare occasion they were even home. It sat huge and empty, the tall fence barricading anyone from getting too curious.

Nolan ignores him in favor of collecting his fishing rod and the tackle set. “Do I need anything else?”

Travis looks him up and down. He’s dressed similarly to Travis—shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops, perfect lake attire. “No, you’re good,” Travis says with a grin.

Nolan still seems harried as he locks the garage back up, walking quickly down the driveway. He stops in the middle of the street to wait for Travis who is taking his time to look at the expensive cars. “You guys must be loaded,” he points out, to which Nolan frowns, saying nothing. Travis lets it go, figuring it’s probably a little rude to bring up.

He takes Nolan’s pole and tackle from him, setting it on the tailgate of his own aged, rusty truck, a hand-me-down from Chase who got a nicer, newer car for commuting into London for college courses. Travis hasn’t loaded anything up yet, unsure if he’d be going out alone or bringing Nolan. He leads Nolan up to their much smaller, cramped garage to gather gear.

Once the cooler’s packed up with ice and bottles of water and Travis has all his equipment lugged out, he takes a second to consider Nolan’s size. Hands on his hips, he gives Nolan a good once over—he’s much broader up top and longer down low than any of them. Chase will be pissed if Travis lets Nolan use his kayak and he fucks up all of his rigging. It’s tempting, but Travis knows he’s likely to be the next one out on the water with Chase and listening to his bitching for the whole day while he resets his adjustments isn’t worth it. Travis’s dad’s kayak is bigger and heavier and more beginner-friendly anyway, and considering he doesn’t know how much experience Nolan has on the water, it’s the better choice.

It’s on the top rack and even reaching as high as he can, his fingers only brush against the plastic. “You get this end,” Travis tells Nolan, crossing over to the other side of the kayak where he can stand on the bottom shelf of the work bench behind him to be able to reach. They load it into the back of his truck, and Travis goes back for his own kayak. “I got it,” he says, when Nolan tries to help him. He’s not trying to make any point, he’s just very used to lugging his own gear around. Well, maybe he’s making a little bit of a point, muscles straining as he hefts the kayak into the truck bed. “Yeehaw, cowboy. Saddle up,” Travis says, slapping the side of the truck and waving vaguely in the direction of the passenger side to let Nolan know to get in.

Nolan looks dubious as fuck when Travis pulls off to the store that boldly claims ‘Live Bait’ and tells him they’ll grab some sandwiches for lunch. “You got lots to learn about this town, buddy,” he informs him, clapping him hard on the shoulder and guiding him inside. He hollers out a greeting to Rudy up at the front register and makes his way back to the deli for a couple of Julie’s sammies. Nolan squints at the illegible chalkboard sign listing the menu and Travis rolls his eyes dramatically at Julie. “New guy. Just the usual is fine.”

She gives him a thumbs up and sets to work while Travis leads Nolan deeper into the shop, to the back wall where there’s a couple of tables and chairs, but more importantly, a bunch of pictures of trophy catches off the lake over the years.

“Is that you?” Nolan asks, stumbling forward to look closer. The picture in question is Travis all bundled up, red-faced and kinda snotty from being out on the cold lake all day, a huge walleye stretched out between his kid arms.

“Yeah, I’m kind of a big deal around here,” Travis says. He’s joking, but really, most of the people who have lived here for long know his family’s name, shop at their store. Pictures of him and Chase and their mom and dad are all over the wall, big catches and some group goose hunting hauls. There’s something cool about getting to introduce it to someone new, all these little intricate pieces of his life that make him proud of his home.

“TK!” Julie calls.

“That’s us,” Travis says. He collects their sandwiches, grabs a container of nightcrawlers out of the cooler, and shoots the shit with Rudy while he pays, finds out how the lake has been treating everyone lately. Nolan lurks behind him, all big and hulking and not saying a thing with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “You’re kinda quiet,” Travis points out as they leave. Nolan, face going a bit red under Travis’s scrutiny, says absolutely nothing.

It’s only a couple of minutes further to get to Lawson’s grandparents’ place and Travis backs in, parking in the yard. Their waterfront lot is the easiest place to launch without having to pay for parking. He spots Gran in the kitchen window and tosses her a wave before strapping their respective gear onto the kayaks and lugging them down to the water. He splashes out into the lake, buoying the kayak close to shore for Nolan to step in. He’s a fucking gentleman, all right, but he’s also half afraid Nolan has no idea what he’s doing and will tip the kayak trying to get in and he’s just not about that right now.

Nolan steps in and Travis helps him get the footrests adjusted for his giant legs. He pops open the dry cubby between his legs and tells him to toss in his phone and anything else he cares about. Once he’s settled, Travis hands him his paddle and gives him a push out. At the very least, he knows how to paddle, gliding out past the end of the dock and turning to wait for Travis. His feet squelch wetly as he pops into his own kayak and gets himself sorted.

And just like that, the electric buzz that’s perpetually going under the surface of his skin settles. It’s always like this out on the water. Travis could live here on the quiet, smooth surface of the lake.

Travis keeps them parallel to land, Nolan closer to the beach, as they paddle in companionable silence. Travis has approximately one million questions for Nolan but the sound of the water lapping gently at the shore is too soothing to talk over. It’s a calm day, not too many waves to battle against, but nevertheless, it’s a bit of a workout to make their way out far enough from the marina to have any hope of finding a quiet place to successfully fish. Nolan seems to have no problem keeping up with the pace that Travis sets, muscular arms flexing with each stroke.

“Stop staring at me, I’ve been on the water before,” Nolan says, his flat monotone voice finally breaking the silence.

“Sorry,” Travis laughs. At least it’s as good of an excuse as any. The seal is broken though and Travis can’t contain his curiosity, his questions start piling up like a slow motion car crash.

Where did he move from? _Winnipeg_. Why did they move? _His dad’s work_. What does his dad do? _Business consulting._ Does he know his dad looks like a scary goon enforcer? _Don’t ever tell him that_. Are the two girls his sisters? _Yes_. What are their names? _Maddie and Aimee. _How old is he? _Nineteen_. How tall is he?

That one gets him a bit of an annoyed glance. “Are we ever going to fish?” Nolan asks.

“If you tell me how tall you are.”

“Six-two,” Nolan supplies.

“_Big_,” Travis says with emphasis. Nolan huffs and drags his paddle through the water, slowing to a shuddery stop. “Oh, relax,” Travis calls back, glancing over his shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

They’ll have to swing out a little ways but then they’ll be out on the other side of a cove. There’s a steep drop off on the inside of the cove where the fishing is usually good and there’s enough of a beach that when the waves aren’t slapping up onto the shore it stays relatively dry and is the perfect place to have a nice little camp on solid ground for lunch.

Once they’re there, Travis starts to set up. He gets an old bait container from the bottom of his tackle box to dump half of the nightcrawlers into for Nolan. “Don’t use them all up. There are a few spots we can try on our way back in after lunch.”

He finds an old ball cap and hands it off to Nolan. It smells fishy but it’s the lake and Nolan doesn’t seem to give a shit, slipping it on backwards. Nolan has already found Travis’s dad’s ugly, old man, head hugging sunglasses somewhere in a hatch and put those on too.

“Wow, hot.” Travis really tries to make it sarcastic but Nolan grins and something in him twists at the sight of Nolan out here, on his lake, looking kind of gross but also not. It’s a weird pull of attraction that Travis doesn’t want to think about right now. “Here,” he says abruptly, passing Nolan a water bottle and paddling a few feet away.

He stands and stretches out his back, finding a good balance on the narrow deck to cast from. He points out the area where they’ll be aiming for to Nolan and the silence lapses once again. Neither of them has much luck for the first hour but then the panfish start biting one after the other. They keep a couple of eaters but send most of their catches back.

By noon, the sun is beaming down on them relentlessly, there’s not a breeze to be caught, and the back of Travis’s shirt is sticking to him with sweat. He brings in his line and secures his pole back to the boat before dropping his sandals, hat, and sunglasses into the hatch. Well clear of Nolan’s line out in the water, Travis dives off the side of his kayak.

It’s a shock to the system but it feels good as he surfaces, shaking his hair out and treading water.

“Isn’t it cold?” Nolan asks.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad.” Travis has been in the water earlier in the year, when the temperatures are way closer to frigid than this. It’s cold enough that he’ll start to shiver if he stays in too long but he wanted a dip to cool off. He hooks his hand through a hold on his kayak and starts towing it toward shore.

There’s an old towel in a front cubby and it too smells of fish, scales dried onto it in places, but Travis spreads it out on the warm sand and flops down. He starfishes out in the sun and stays there for a while letting the warmth soak back into him and dry him. All he can see when he looks straight up is the clear blue sky and the bluffs jutting up behind him, topped with thick forest. No civilization for miles and miles.

It’s so quiet, nothing but the sound of the water, birds in the trees, and Nolan casting and reeling every so often, the frantic splash whenever he brings a fish in. Eventually, Travis raises onto his elbows to look at him. He seems just as happy out on the water as Travis is.

“Hey, dumbass,” Travis calls gently. Nolan looks up, stupid sunglasses still plastered onto his horrible face. “Come in and eat.”

Travis doesn’t want to get up, but he does—again, a fucking gentleman—to collect the cooler, a couple cold bottles of water, and their sandwiches. Nolan paddles to shore and steps smoothly out, dragging his kayak halfway onto the beach next to Travis’s. The towel is a bit wet, and smelling more fishy as a result, but Travis shakes off the sand and spreads it out for them both to sit on, sandwiches and water between them. The lake stretches out before them, seemingly going on forever.

“You come here a lot?” Nolan asks, half mumbled around a bite of sandwich.

Travis isn’t sure if he means here specifically or the lake in general, but either way, he says, “Yeah.”

“It’s really nice.”

Travis glances at him, but he can’t see anything behind the shade of the sunglasses though he has the distinct feeling Nolan is looking at him and he again just says, “Yeah.”

—

Travis knows the knock is coming before it actually happens, Murphy scrambling up across the floor to prance excitedly at the door the second he heard someone on the front porch. Murph’s collar in one hand and the doorknob in the other, Travis wrenches the door open when the first rap comes.

Murphy lunges excitedly and jerks Travis forward a little.

“Fuck,” Nolan swears, stumbling back and dropping his rollerblades to the wood deck with a loud clatter.

“Sorry,” Travis laughs, dragging Murphy back into the house and waving Nolan forward. “Come on, get in here. He just really likes people.”

Nolan stares distrustfully at Murphy and sidesteps around him, standing ramrod straight when Travis closes the door and sets Murph loose to check him out. Murphy snuffles loudly around his feet, whole body shaking with the force of his wagging tail.

Rolling his eyes, Travis grabs Nolan’s hand and places it firmly onto Murphy’s neck. “You both need to chill.”

Nolan scratches Murphy’s ears, which earns him a slobbery hand kiss that Nolan wipes onto Travis's shirt. At least everyone’s acquainted.

“You wanna go rollerblading?” Travis asks, guessing that's Nolan's reason for showing up, and Nolan confirms with a nod. “Sweet. Back in a sec.”

Travis leaves them in the front hall to go find his skates, and comes back to Nolan plopped on the floor with Murph on his back between his legs, basking in belly rubs.

“I leave you two alone for five seconds and this happens,” Travis says, shaking his head with mock disapproval. At the sound of his voice and the sight of his skates, Murphy is up and dancing again. "All right, all right," Travis mutters, opening the door to let him bound out ahead. Murphy tears around the front yard while they get their rollerblades on.

Before they leave the yard, Travis hears the crinkle of a wrapper and glances over to see Nolan popping a sucker into his mouth.

"What is it with you and those things?" Travis asks contemptuously.

Nolan glances at him and shrugs. "They're good."

"Whatever," Travis replies. "If you don't want the gum, give it to me."

He doesn't wait for a response and pushes off down the driveway, hearing Nolan follow behind him a couple seconds later. They take it easy at first, skating down the middle of the street while Murphy trots along beside them. Once they reach the end of their street, they can step up onto the sidewalk which is newer, smooth concrete, easier to skate faster without the fear of potential oncoming traffic and potholes.

Travis picks up the pace, skates gliding smoothly on hard surface, and when he glances behind him, Nolan is skating with long, sure strides, easily keeping up with Travis’s shorter, snappy ones. Looking back ahead again, he sees Murphy bounding down the trail to the left, and swears, tossing a hand out behind him as he slows abruptly.

Nolan runs into him with a grunt, and Travis grips onto him as he throws them both into a sharp turn. They barely make it around the corner upright, but when they do, Travis laughs. Nolan’s got a hold of him still so he plants his skates firmly against the ground and pushes off harder, keeping them both moving forward with Nolan dragging behind him.

“Dumbass,” Nolan grumbles, letting go.

The trail leads out into the woods and Murphy knows the way well, running ahead of them on the mowed grass to the side of the hard surface. It’s a warm day and his tongue is already hanging out of the side of his mouth. If they keep going straight, they’ll be able to get down to the creek for a dip which is no doubt Murphy’s intended destination.

“Here,” Nolan says, holding out the sucker stick to Travis, gum center intact. Travis takes it, bites the gum off, and jams the stick into his pocket.

It’s a couple kilometers further before they come to the bridge. Murphy has already found the path leading down the embankment and Travis follows him, not pausing to take his skates off first. It’s just a narrow deer trail cut through the weeds leading down to the water, packed dirt and exposed tree roots. Travis makes it about halfway down on his skates before he’s on his ass. While he’s down, he takes his skates and socks off and finishes skidding down the hill on his bare feet.

When he gets to the bottom, Nolan is carrying his skates and making his way down too. Travis skims his shirt off and leaves it with his phone, wallet, the sucker stick, and skates on the shore. Murphy is already up creek chasing frogs from one side to the other. The water is warmer than the lake, the creek shallower and not very wide or fast moving. About midway across, the water only reaches Travis’s waist, but there are a couple of spots that are deeper when the water is at its usual levels.

“Come on, Winnipeg boy,” Travis goads Nolan when he finally reaches the water’s edge. “Get your tarp off, you bag of milk. Live a little.”

Much to Travis’s delight, he does take his shirt off and Travis was right, he’s ghostly under it, farmer’s tan going strong. He trudges out into the water beside Travis, and Travis doesn’t give him a second to adjust, full on rushing him and tackling his ass to the sandy bottom of the creek. He goes down easy despite being so much bigger, but Travis got the advantage of surprise.

Nolan comes up flailing, grasping at Travis’s shoulders. His hair is flopped half onto his face, eyes an icy blue, cheeks going red as he spits, “God, you’re such a fucking...”

“What?” Travis asks, giddy, when he doesn’t finish. “Say it.” He _really_ wants to know.

“I don’t know,” Nolan says genuinely. He looks actually confused, like he can’t come up with a word.

“Come on, bitch. Fight me,” Travis says, shoving at him.

Nolan shoves him back, but otherwise just stands there like a big, dumb, pale, quiet jerk. Travis lunges at him again, but Nolan’s braced and ready for it and sort of just catches him. He loses his footing in the slick sandy soil though and they both go down. Travis hooks his leg around Nolan’s and rolls them, holding Nolan under the water for a second before dragging him up.

Nolan gasps for air, eyes wild, face livid as he pushes Travis back. Travis grins as Nolan comes straight at him, tackling him hard into the water. It hurts, two solid bodies colliding with force, sinking them straight to the bottom where there’s some rocks. Travis kicks out, water splashing, and knees Nolan somewhere near the shoulder. Before Travis can get away, Nolan gets a hold of him by the ankle and drags him back, pinning him down.

Travis slams up against him, chests smacking together hard enough that it throws Nolan off balance and Travis can overpower him and roll on top, sitting on his stomach triumphantly for all of three seconds before Nolan grabs his wrists and throws him onto his back again, actually holding him down with force this time.

“Whoa, wait,” Travis says. It startles Nolan into loosening his hold and Travis pulls a hand free, bringing it up to Nolan’s chest. He drags his fingers along a scar there. “What’s this?”

Nolan tucks his chin down to look, but it’s not like he can actually see there. “Oh,” he replies. “I broke my collarbone. Twice.”

“That’s dumb,” Travis tells him.

“It’s not like it was on purpose, asshole,” Nolan grumbles.

Travis grins up at Nolan’s stupid, shitty face. It takes him a second to realize he’s still running the tip of his finger back and forth over the scar, and then to realize that his thighs are bracketing Nolan’s hips and Nolan’s got his wrist pinned up above his head. Anyone out walking over the bridge could look down and see them, and it would probably look like they’re screwing. Travis grins even wider and squeezes his legs around Nolan’s waist.

Nolan backs off, half crawling, half swimming out to the middle of the creek. He looks like an idiot. Travis straightens out his shorts and does pretty much the same thing, letting the surface of the water obscure his traitor body’s reaction to having Nolan all up on him like that for a second.

Nolan’s gone right back to being quiet and still, Travis splashes him until he looks grumpy again. “You’re a moron,” Nolan mutters.

“Still better than being a giant sack of two percent though,” Travis responds.

Murphy comes wandering back eventually, probably having eaten a bunch of frogs. Travis doesn’t want to think about it.

They use their shirts to dry off their legs enough to get their socks on, climb back up the hill to get their skates on. Travis goes slow, pointing out a couple of different paths that Nolan can take that are paved the whole way. He takes him the long way home, all around the edge of town.

“Thank you,” Nolan says once they’re back out in front of their houses.

Travis grabs his wrist to stop him from leaving. “Hey, give me your phone so I can put my number in.”

Nolan digs it out of his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it over. Travis saves his number under _Teeks_. When he passes it back, Nolan glances at him from under his eyelashes and he looks so fucking soft, his hair all knotted, face a little sunburned and sweaty.

Travis squeezes his wrist then lets go and says, “Okay, bye.” He skates up to his house, clomping up the stairs with his rollerblades still on. He gets Murphy in and slams the door behind him, not looking back to see if Nolan is still there.

The house is quiet, and Travis does a quick lap, checking that no one is home. He heads up to his room and strips off his clothes, gets the shower started, and then remembers. He goes back to the laundry basket for his shorts, finding the sucker stick in his pocket. He puts it in the top drawer of his desk next to the first one from the time at the store.

He stops and stares at himself in the mirror for a second before getting in the shower, turning to the side to see the bruise that’s forming where his back hit a rock. He pushes on it, thinks about Nolan on top of him, and shivers.

It’s the easiest thing in the world to just keep thinking about that in the shower. Nolan’s body over his, the feel of him between his thighs, the weight of him holding Travis down. His pretty mouth and his really good face and his soft hair that Travis wants to put his hands in. The scar on his collarbone that Travis wants to taste. He wonders if Nolan would let him.

He shudders at the thought of actually getting his mouth on Nolan, kissing him, and comes.

Something close to panic rushes in right after. It’s unsettling how twisted up he feels inside, this raw, confused ache at the bone-deep attraction he’s got for this guy he doesn’t even really know, just met. Travis scrubs a hand over his face and rinses off.

It sits with him long enough that his dad asks him if he’s okay at dinner, if he’ll need someone to cover his shift at work tomorrow.

“I’m fine,” Travis says, but it feels like a lie.

He’s _fine_.

—

Travis hears Lawson’s horrible, deranged cackle and glances up in time to see something hurtling toward him. He ducks behind the desk but whatever Lawson threw nails Travis’s coffee and sends it to the floor, spilling all over his feet.

Travis groans. It’s too early for this shit.

“Whatever that was, it’s coming out of both of your paychecks,” his dad yells from somewhere in the store. The store isn’t open yet, thankfully, or they both would be facing down his dad’s wrath up close and personal.

“It’s fine,” Travis calls back. “You’re cleaning this up _and_ getting me another coffee,” Travis snaps at Lawson.

“Oh, touchy,” Lawson replies, cuffing Travis on the head. “Good morning, sunshine. You’re not the boss of me and I’m doing neither of those things.”

Travis has terrible taste in friends. He has to clean up the mess himself and suffer through the sub par coffee from the pot in the employee lounge rather than the perfection he’d specifically made time to stop for on his way to the store.

“I hate you,” he mutters as he passes Law on his way back to the fishing department. Lawson clutches at his chest, looking wounded, and then converges on a customer with a winning smile, asking if he can help them find anything.

It’s a slow day. Travis helps a couple of people needing fishing licenses, a few others looking for something specific, wastes some time chatting to people about the lake. Law does a couple of drive-bys, giving Travis weird looks each time he crosses by Travis’s department for no discernible reason.

He takes his lunch break the same time that Travis does, dragging out the chair directly next to his and spinning it around to sit backwards and stare at Travis. “What’s your deal?”

The thing is that Lawson is actually a really great friend, and has been Travis’s best friend since they were both old enough to start speaking in mostly full sentences, and from there they just never stopped talking. There’s never been anything that Travis hasn’t told Lawson about, occasionally to Law’s horror and disgust. He’s not about to start keeping secrets from him now.

“You ever look at a guy and think, damn, he’s really hot?”

Lawson frowns. “Like, in a noticing a guy is decently attractive kind of way, or a legitimately attracted to a man kind of way?”

“Like I’m jerking off about how hot he is kind of way.”

“Whoa,” Lawson says. Travis scrutinizes him, trying to gauge if he’s weirded out or just surprised. He doesn’t seem grossed out, at least, and it’s pretty easy to tell with Law, he’s a huge wimp with an overly expressive face. “Can we establish you’re not jerking off about me?”

“Ew, no,” Travis almost shouts.

“Don’t be mean, I am top notch spank bank material,” Law says, sweeping his hands up and down his torso.

“No,” Travis says. “Hard no.”

“Okay, fine. So who is he?”

“Nolan,” Travis replies, realizing belatedly he actually has no idea what his last name is. “New neighbors, they just moved in across the street.”

“The richy-rich house?” Law asks, and Travis nods. “Damn. So you’re like, into him then?”

Travis shrugs. “I guess.”

“What about him? Is he into you?”

“Dude, I literally just figured this out for me, how the hell am I supposed to know what he’s into?”

“Fair, but I mean, he’s probably super gay for you too, buddy. You’re gonna like, gay bone him, it’ll be sweet.”

“Jesus Christ, Lawson,” Travis mutters, slapping away Law’s hand when he starts to reach out at him.

“No, come here. We have to hug it out. You just came out to me, man, it’s big.”

Travis grumbles but Lawson gets a hold of his shoulders and drags him into a hug that’s pretty nice after the jittery worry that’s been sparking through him. “I’m not like gay-gay though,” Travis says into Lawson’s shirt.

“Sure, but it’d be fine if you are. Gay, bi, whatever, man. You don’t gotta label it, you can just have a big old bone for this Nolan guy, I don’t care. It’s chill that you told me.”

“You’re a good friend, Crouser,” Travis says, squeezing him despite the awkward seated position and chair back digging into his chest. It helps so much more than he expected to say it out loud, and to have Lawson just be so Lawson about it. As much as Travis hates to admit that he’s right, he is right. It doesn’t actually matter—Travis is allowed to be attracted to Nolan and it doesn’t have to be a whole huge, weird deal.

While Travis is having his moment of appreciation for Law, he ruins it by saying, “Sure am. Such a good buddy that I’ll let you practice your handies.”

Travis grumbles, pulling away, but Law’s got a dumb grin on his face and Travis can’t help but crack up. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out expecting a shitty meme from Chase or something but it’s a number not in his contacts.

> _Your mom said you’re at work._
> 
> _ Lame._
> 
> _ I took your dog for a skate._

Travis frowns down at his phone, confused. A picture comes through while the message is still open, a selfie of Nolan’s face with Murphy in the background and one of Nolan’s sisters skating behind him. It absolutely wrecks Travis and he has to set his phone down for a minute just to breathe.

“Dude, what is happening right now?” Law asks him. Wordlessly, Travis tilts his phone so Lawson can see. “Oh, that’s him, huh? Who’s the girl?”

“Sister,” Travis says weakly.

“Hot,” Law replies.

Travis glances at the picture again, and yeah, okay, she’s definitely hot but Travis can’t really get past Nolan, and that seems telling. Groaning, Travis sets his phone face down and covers his eyes with his hands. “I’m really gay.”

The door clatters closed behind him, and Travis looks over his shoulder to see one of the store managers, Claude, standing there with a pained expression on his face. “I want no part of this,” Claude says before backing out of the room.

Travis groans again and picks up his phone, saving the picture to his camera roll and adding Nolan in as a contact with three water drop emojis. Travis texts him back.

> _ Pls return my dog when ur done w him_
> 
> _ Work is v lame_
> 
> _ Work wife makes work life bearable_

Travis snaps a selfie and sends it, Lawson doing duck face and chucking deuces in the background because he’s the actual worst.

> _Come hang out by the pool later?_
> 
> _ Can I bring law im his only friend :(_
> 
> _ Sure._

Travis sends a thumbs up emoji and shudders out a deep breath. Lawson smacks him on the back roughly a couple of times. “Good work, buddy. A cute little pool date is solid progress, and he’s walking your dog. You’ll be boning in no time.” Travis is pretty sure Lawson is going to make him regret bringing him along. At least there will be a pool to drown him in if he starts acting up. “Do you need to go jerk one out about this? I’ll cover your department for a couple minutes,” Lawson offers.

“I’m not going to jerk off at work,” Travis snaps. There’s a loud sigh behind him and Claude is again standing there. “Can you knock or something?” Travis yells.

“This is the break room,” Claude yells back. “I’m just trying to get my lunch.” He claps both hands over his ears and somehow manages to get the fridge open and smash his lunch to his side with his elbows and mostly runs out of the room.

The rest of the day goes by quickly while Travis tries not to freak out about Nolan and Lawson meeting and spending time together. There’s going to be a lot of shirtlessness involved and Travis can’t even begin to prepare for that. At least if Travis starts to get overwhelmed by how hot Nolan is, he can just look at Lawson who has literally never been hot a day in his life. Things will balance out, it’ll be super chill.

“Hey honey, I met your friend Nolan,” his mom says the second he walks through the door. “He seems really sweet.”

“Yeah,” Travis says, and nothing more because he’s not trying to come out to anyone more than Lawson, and accidentally Claude, today. Murphy is sprawled out on the floor in front of the fan, looking wholly tired and happy. Travis scrubs his toes through Murph’s tummy fur and his tail thumps lazily against the floor and it makes Travis’s stomach cramp that Nolan came over and cared enough to take Murphy out for a run.

It’s a warm day, the kind that makes stepping outside feel like a four mile run, sweat beading up just from the temperature alone, and by late afternoon it’s still sweltering. Travis sits on his front steps in his swim trunks and waits for Lawson to show the hell up. He drives like a grandma, Travis swears.

“Hey.” Travis looks up and Nolan is crossing the street toward him. His swim trunks are shorter and tighter than they have any right to be. “Hey,” Travis murmurs back. He sets his phone down beside him and leans back on his palms.

“You coming over or what?” Nolan asks.

“Yeah, just waiting for Lawson. Ninety year olds drive faster than he does so it might be a while.”

Nolan makes a noise that’s not quite a laugh and sets one of his feet up on the step between Travis’s. Travis spreads his legs and wonders if he looks slutty, hopes he does, and hopes that Nolan notices. They stare at each other quietly for a beat before Nolan glances away, tucking his hair behind his ear. Travis wants to put his hands all over him.

“So did you have a good skate?” he asks instead of doing that foolish, foolish thing.

“Yeah. It’s so hot out. We got kind of lost, but your dog led us back after I let him stop at the creek to cool off.”

Travis wants to get his palm _right there_ on Nolan’s chest where it’s a little red, and lick into the hollow of his throat where sweat is starting to gather. “Hmm,” he says, noncommittally, not having any idea what Nolan just said.

Blessedly, Lawson pulls up and saves Travis from his own horrible, shameful thoughts. They all get introduced, there’s an awkward hand shake, it’s a whole thing, and Lawson pulls out his most dramatic voice to ask where the pool is before he melts. Nolan leads the way back to his house.

Lawson and Travis follow behind, Lawson throwing his elbow into Travis’s ribs seven times before Travis frantically whispers, “Stop it,” out of the side of his mouth.

Nolan glances back at them, suspicious, and Lawson grins like the asshole that he is, elbowing Travis one last time and gesturing at Nolan’s ass in front of them like Travis doesn’t have eyes and can’t already see it.

Nolan’s sisters are out in the pool, lounging on floaties and it distracts Lawson into leaving Travis alone. Thankfully he’s not a creep because Nolan’s sisters are hot, and he manages not to be a tool about meeting them. Lawson is a bit like Murphy, really. Loyal, a little dumb, intensely friendly. He hasn’t eaten any frogs that Travis knows of, but there was that one time with the worm.

Travis trots that story out for everyone while Law squawks over him, “You’re gonna do this? Do you know the shit I’ve got on you? I’m gonna tell them about that time you were scared of the mascot at that hockey game.”

“That was you!” Travis shrieks back at him, indignant.

It’s easy, swimming around the pool and dragging out their most embarrassing stories. Lawson tells them about the first time Travis got drunk on spiked fruit punch Gatorade and puked all over his parents’ white carpet and stained it bright red. Maddie tells them about Nolan getting a haircut so bad that he wouldn’t take his hat off for a month straight. Round and around, laughing at each other’s pain, Travis and Lawson and Maddie half talking over each other to be heard while Nolan cuts in with bland asides and Aimee mostly ignores them all entirely.

Except that Travis has to focus really carefully on acting like a functioning human being, pretending like Nolan doesn’t exist when he does something particularly egregious like forgetting the pool ladder exists and popping himself up over the edge, arm and back muscles flexing in a way that makes Travis’s insides hurt with _want. _Or just like, digging his swim trunks out of his butt crack which shouldn’t be sexy and Travis should maybe respect him enough not to blatantly stare at his ass but whatever. It is what it is, Travis has a capital-P Problem.

“I think he likes you,” Lawson says as they’re walking back across the street, crispy and worn out from the sun.

“Don’t,” Travis pleads, a little desperate. He can’t deal with getting his hopes up about this. Every second he spends around Nolan is rubbing it in, just how huge and hopeless his crush is.

“I wouldn’t pump your tires about this, buddy. I’m serious. He could not stop trying to make you pay attention to him. I think he’s got it worse than you do, actually.”

“Shut up,” Travis demands.

“All right, fine,” Lawson concedes. “But I’m just saying,” he continues as he gets in his car. “’You miss one hundred—’”

“Don’t quote Gretzky at me,” Travis groans, cutting Lawson off. Law cackles like the monster he is and flips him the bird as he slams the door.

—

Now that his mom has met Nolan, she will not leave Travis alone about him. It’s like a never ending firing squad. At work, Lawson pesters him about shooting his shot. At home, his mom has nonstop questions about _that sweet boy, Nolan_.

Travis texts Nolan about it.

> _ My mom is in love w u_
> 
> _ U have a new name it’s_
> 
> _ Sweet boy Nolan_

Nolan just responds with a long line of question marks. Travis catches his mom on one of her _sweet boy_ tirades and films it, ending the video when she realizes that he’s capturing her swooning for the boy next door, asking irately, “Are you filming me?” Travis sends it to Nolan and then deletes the video as she demands him to.

> _Moms love me._

Nolan strings along a couple of smirking emojis to finish it up while Travis does his mom’s bidding, inviting Nolan over for dinner. It’s not a date if his mom’s there. It can’t be a date if Nolan doesn’t even know that’s what Travis desperately wants it to be. Since it’s not that, Travis doesn’t panic about it, or even think about it really.

But Nolan shows up at their front door in a fucking nice shirt and some tight jeans, his hair all soft and parted nicely on the side, looking fully like the prettiest thing Travis has ever laid eyes on. Meanwhile, Travis didn’t change out of his ratty t-shirt and shorts from the night before.

“Okay, hardo, I didn’t even shower. You fucking suck up,” Travis grumbles as he lets him in.

Nolan grins, leans into Travis’s space a little bit and says, “Yeah, buddy. You’re fucking rank.”

Travis breathes out hard through his nose, yells, “Mom, the sweet boy is here,” and slams the front door closed. Nolan blushes and quickly moves to kick his shoes off while Travis’s mom comes blustering in.

“Oh, thanks for coming, Nolan. We’re so excited to have you over for dinner.”

Nolan murmurs his thanks in return and passes over the bottle of wine he brought with him. “My mom picked it out, said it would pair nicely with the fish.”

“That’s just wonderful, please be sure to tell her how much we appreciate it.”

They do the good Canadian custom of trying to outdo each other with their gratitude for a while. Travis stands by, absently petting Murphy while he waits, Murphy excitedly licking Nolan’s fingers trying to get his attention. Travis relates a little too well to that.

“Travis, why don’t you go get the patio table set and fire started? Dinner will be ready in a bit.”

She’s already got plates, napkins, and silverware piled up so he grabs the stack and herds Nolan out the back door, Murphy glued to Nolan’s side like he’s been the ride or die since day one. Traitor. Travis gets the table set and shakes the random debris off the patio chair cushions while Nolan wanders around the yard. It’s not much, not like his place. Just a little patio with enough room for them all to sit, a fire pit, and stretch of lawn that Travis has had to push mow every summer weekend since he was ten. He collects an armful of firewood from the stack and builds up a little campfire to sit around when it starts to cool down with the sunset.

With the fire going, Travis pops back inside to see if there’s anything else to bring out. His mom has taken down the nice wine glasses, and she demands that Travis be careful when he picks them up, all four of the glasses between his fingers, the bottle of wine from Nolan’s mom under one elbow. He tries to get the back door open again with the other elbow but things start to slip and he freezes, glancing over his shoulder. His mom rushes to fling the door open for him, mumbling under her breath. Once he’s got everything sorted, he goes to sit next to Nolan by the fire.

He doesn’t notice it until he hears a dull clinking noise that’s out of place next to the popping fire. He looks over, and Nolan’s got a sucker in his mouth, absently spinning it back and forth, knocking it against his teeth. Travis has never been very good at impulse control. It’s why his parents pulled him out of hockey at an early age, because he didn’t really get as a child that sticks were meant for hitting the puck, not people. He’s not any better now, mostly an adult, and he launches himself at Nolan, bodily taking him off the bench and tackling him. The combined force of Nolan hitting the ground and Travis’s weight on top of him knocks a breath out of him and Travis pulls the sucker out of his surprise slack mouth, jamming it into his own. He crunches it vindictively in Nolan’s face, sitting there on top of him, and pockets the sucker stick as usual, his victory prize.

“Why are you always collecting my garbage like a weird, violent crow?” Nolan asks, bewildered.

Travis doesn’t have an answer for that, he just shoves at Nolan’s face instead but his candy-red mouth is still a little open and Travis’s thumb slips against his lips. He’s transfixed, frozen, the pad of his thumb touching just inside Nolan’s mouth where his lip is a little slick.

“Travis,” his mom hisses angrily from the patio.

Travis jerks away like he’s been burned, clambering to his feet and quickly helping Nolan up. He’s got a grass stain on his shoulder from Travis tackling him and his hair’s messed up, but Travis likes it better that way.

“I’m sorry he’s like this,” his mom says when they approach, dusting some of the embedded dirt off Nolan’s arm.

“S’okay,” he mutters in reply.

Since they’re already judging him anyway, Travis grabs the bottle of wine off the table and overfills a glass for himself, choking down a big mouthful even though it tastes fucking terrible. His mom looks disappointed, Nolan looks oddly proud. Travis will take it.

His dad gets home from work, and they finally get to sit down and eat. Chase has been staying with his girlfriend in London more and more lately, and it’s just the four of them. Travis has a moment of silent terror wondering if it’s weird and whether his parents suspect anything about how Travis feels for Nolan but then remembers there have been countless dinners with his parents, him, and Lawson that were never weird.

“So, Nolan,” his dad starts, pausing to take a drink of wine. He frowns at it, then looks to Travis’s mom and says, “This is very dry.”

“It’s a gift from the…” She says tightly, trailing off and glancing over at Nolan. “I don’t know your last name.”

“Patrick.”

“It is not,” Travis says, glaring at Nolan who looks very confused. “Is it?”

“Yes,” Nolan says flatly.

“Nolan Patrick,” Travis tries and the sound of it feels weird in his mouth. “What’s your middle name?”

Nolan pauses before answering, “James.”

“You literally have three first names,” Travis says, equal parts delighted and horrified.

“Anyway,” his mom says loudly. “The wine is a wonderful gift from the Patricks. Isn’t that so nice, Rob?”

“Yes, yes, wonderful,” he replies, taking another drink of the wine. He hates it, Travis can tell, and he takes a gulp from his own glass in solidarity, meeting his dad’s pained eyes. “Tell us about yourself, Nolan.”

Nolan looks patently uncomfortable, shifting in his seat, “Um,” he mumbles, clanking his silverware against his plate. He glances at Travis with something close to panic and Travis sighs.

“He’s a year younger than me,” Travis begins, then lists off every fact he’s gathered about Nolan since meeting him except for the things that he wants to keep for himself. Like the scar on his collarbone—which Travis needs to remember to ask more about sometime—and his weird obsession with suckers, and how comfortable and at home he looks out on the lake.

“Are you headed off to university in the fall?” his dad asks.

“No,” Nolan answers, offering nothing more.

His parents seem to catch on that Nolan is uneasy and stop trying to ask him questions about his life, much less nosy or willing to needle to get answers than Travis is. His dad gives a whole run down on the store and how things are going, tacking on at the end, “If you need a job, Travis can show you around the store if you’re interested.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” Nolan graciously replies.

Travis thinks he probably doesn’t have to work, and would be setting his sights higher than a sporting goods store if he wanted something to do. Travis isn’t planning on doing any of the higher education shit either, for now. Chase is the scholarly one, shooting for a degree in environmental engineering, always interested in that science crap, but Travis is happy at the store. He’ll work his way up and eventually run the whole damn thing when his dad’s ready to retire. This place is Travis’s home and he can’t imagine ever wanting anything different.

His parents murmur quietly to each other over the rest of the meal while Travis recounts a story to Nolan that he heard at work about a boat nearly capsizing from the strong winds and rough water out on the lake this week. It’s a nice dinner, the wine starts tasting better once Travis is closer to the bottom of the glass. He’s thinking about finishing off the bottle when his mom swipes it off the table and takes it into the house.

That’s fine, Nolan hardly touched his and they’d left the glass out there with them after clearing the table. “You gonna drink that?” Travis asks.

“No, it’s fucking terrible,” Nolan mutters haughtily.

“Tastes better the more you drink it,” Travis says.

Nolan shrugs. “Go for it.”

Travis downs it in one go and plinks the glass back onto the table with a flourish. “Come on,” he says, leading Nolan to the fire pit.

Nolan sits too far away and without really thinking about it, Travis scoots closer and kicks his feet out, stretching his arm along the back of the bench, close enough to touching that he can feel the heat radiating off him through his t-shirt. The sun is just starting to set, the sky going pretty pink and purple on the horizon. Murphy trots over and drops a slobbery ball into Nolan’s lap.

“It’s annoying,” Travis says. “I used to be his favorite. Crazy how you just show up and everyone falls all over themselves for you.”

It’s one of the street hockey balls and Travis shouldn’t encourage Murphy by throwing it but he won’t stop making cow eyes at Nolan until someone does, so really, Travis doesn’t have a choice. He plucks the slimy ball off Nolan’s thighs and chucks it as hard as he can.

“No one is doing that,” Nolan mumbles.

“Sure they are,” Travis replies. Nolan is staring at him, and Travis glances at him quickly before focusing on Murphy again as he makes his way back to them. Travis sticks his hand out, but Murphy bypasses it in favor of dropping the ball onto Nolan’s thighs again, getting them all gross with slobber and grassy bits and dirt. He grabs the ball and tosses it. Nolan is still staring at him. “What?” Travis asks, meeting his eyes.

“Nothing,” Nolan says. He looks away and stretches his long legs out beside Travis’s. “You just don’t make any sense.”

Offended, Travis scoffs. “I make a lot of sense.”

“You don’t.”

“Rude,” Travis grumbles.

—

Work gets crazy busy with almost no warning. Three people up and quit for varying stupid reasons, plus Chase isn’t picking up any shifts now that he’s acting like London is his home or something. They have a huge influx of inventory just as they end up short staffed, and Travis and his dad pull twelves the whole week to try and keep up with everything, while his mom covers the office crap. Law even stays late a couple of nights to help out, it’s that bad.

It’s been almost a week since Travis has had time to see Nolan at all, his texts just a rushed response of _sorry, can’t_ to the invitations Nolan extends his way. Nice of him to keep trying, especially when last time they’d hung out, the brutal work hours had just started and Travis had crashed on a lounge chair by the pool and slept for three hours.

It’s been a long fucking week and his dad sent him home at closing time, saying he was going to take his mom out to dinner so they could all have a little break. Travis pulls into the driveway and rests his head on the steering wheel. He’s not going to fall asleep, he just needs to rest his eyes for a minute to gather strength to make it to the house.

A knock on the window startles Travis hard enough that he somehow punches the horn. “Jesus,” he grumbles, pushing the door open.

Nolan is standing there shirtless on his skates. If he had a sucker, Travis would assume he’s dreaming, but he doesn’t so he’s probably not. “Were you sleeping in your truck?” Nolan asks him, sounding awfully judgmental for a guy in salmon-pink shorts.

“No,” Travis lies.

“You were,” Nolan says with a frown.

“You and your hideous shorts can fuck right off.”

Affronted, Nolan says, “My shorts are not hideous.”

Travis waits for the ‘it’s called fashion’ but Nolan is forever the most bland outside of his wildly questionable outfit choices and misses that opportunity. “If you say so, bud.”

“Just because your style has never seen outside the range of camo colors doesn’t mean that mine’s bad.”

Travis grins, manic, delighted by this actual chirp. “Come have dinner with me,” he says, slamming the truck door and leaving Nolan no choice but to follow.

“Can I shower first?” Nolan asks, clomping along behind Travis on his skates.

“No,” Travis says. Nolan sputters but follows Travis into the house. “You’d be surprised but there are showers in this house.”

“That is surprising considering you never look like you’ve taken one.” It takes all of Travis’s willpower not to shove him against the wall and kiss him. He’d really have to put in some effort to reach him, Nolan even taller than usual on his skates, but Travis loves a challenge. “Anyway, I need clothes.”

“Borrow mine.”

Nolan gives him a pointed look and says in his most monotone voice, “They won’t fit.”

Travis returns that pointed look and dryly replies, “I’ve seen the clothes you wear, they’ll fit just fine.”

Nolan goes three shades darker pink than the shorts he’s wearing and suddenly Travis doesn’t hate them so much. “It would literally take me ten minutes to go home to shower and change.”

Travis just shrugs, says, “Them’s the breaks,” like he’s somehow being reasonable. He’s not, he’s well aware of that, but he’s too tired to care. If Travis were smart, he’d let Nolan leave so he could house four lukewarm hamburgers without judgment but he’s not and they’ll have to make do with Travis’s current needs.

Travis lets Murphy out in the backyard while Nolan gets his skates off, then leads him upstairs to his room. “Go shower, I’ll leave some clothes for you.” Nolan looks dubious, but goes. It’s tempting to find something that absolutely will be too small, but Travis already knows seeing Nolan in his clothes is going to be an entire situation, anything smaller than necessary is just asking for trouble. He finds a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and leaves them on the sink, both camo since Nolan wasn’t that far off about Travis’s wardrobe.

Downstairs, he starts reheating some leftover meat from grilling the night before. He dumps a bag of greens into a big bowl, throws some dressing on it, and stabs a couple forks in and calls it good. He stands on the back patio with the door open while the meat heats, tossing the ball for Murphy. Nolan comes down a few minutes later, all wet haired and shower flushed in Travis’s clothes, smelling like Travis’s soap. Travis takes a moment to appreciate just how dumb he must be to have brought this full devastation on himself.

They eat standing up at the counter, Travis half draped over it to stay upright. Nolan at least doesn’t seem to be judging him for the mediocre meal of plain hamburger patties with a side of lettuce.

“Movie?” Travis asks after he’s cleaned up their dishes.

“Sure,” Nolan says.

Yawning, he calls Murphy back into the house and turns off lights behind them as they head upstairs. Travis grabs his laptop and brings up Netflix, flops onto his bed. Nolan sits on the edge and Travis deposits the laptop into his lap. “You pick,” he tells him.

“What do you like?” he hears Nolan ask, but Travis falls asleep before he can formulate a response.

“Trav, did you—”

Travis blinks awake, mumbling.

“Oh,” his mom whispers. She’s in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light.

“Hm,” he asks indistinctly in her direction.

“Nothing, sorry, I didn’t realize,” she says, quietly closing the door.

His head’s somewhere near Nolan’s hip. He turns and squints up at him. He’s still sitting against the headboard near the edge of the bed, some movie paused on the laptop.

“I can go,” he says softly.

“No, sleep,” Travis replies. He pats around the bed for his phone, finding it half under Nolan’s leg, and clambers over him to the table. He sets his alarm for the morning and plugs it into the charger. He can feel Nolan’s breath in his hair. It’s not late, really, Nolan probably isn’t even tired. “Finish the movie, s’fine,” he mumbles, sliding back down to lie beside him. “Move over,” he says. He feels Nolan shift away from him, somehow closer to the edge, and clutches at him, frustrated. “No, dumbass.”

With his arm around Nolan’s waist, he drags him closer. Nolan huffs out a breath, there’s a clatter and Nolan twists against him, and when he opens his eyes, Nolan is setting the laptop on the floor. He murmurs appreciatively when Nolan rights himself again and buries his face into Nolan’s side now that he’s actually laying down. Travis hooks his foot in the blanket at the end of the bed and pulls it up over them both.

“God,” Nolan breathes.

Travis huffs and drags his calf along Nolan’s and sleeps.

When the alarm goes in the morning, their legs are still tangled together. Travis clambers over the top of him to get his phone, trying to avoid putting his elbows or knees anywhere too soft. Nolan grunts at his weight and Travis rolls off quickly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Travis whispers, smacking at his phone to try to get the stupid alarm to turn off. Nolan leans up on his elbows, pushes his hair off his face, and Travis puts his hand on Nolan’s chest to keep him there. “You don’t have to get up. I have to go to work but I’ll let my mom know you’re still here. She’ll make you some eggs or something when you’re up.”

Nolan mumbles but Travis can’t parse what he says before he flops back down on the bed.

Travis turns on the bathroom light to try and find a relatively clean work shirt and goes to shower. He cranks the water cold just to make sure he’s nice and awake and definitely not thinking about Nolan in his bed.

Nolan is buried mostly under the blanket with his head between Travis’s pillows when Travis comes back out. He creeps over to the bed and lays his hand on Nolan’s shoulder, only because it feels weirder to talk to him in the dark without touching him. It’s a whole logical thing.

“Hey,” he whispers, “Nolan.” Nolan pokes his head out from under the pillow only enough to be seen. “Hey, sorry, are you busy this weekend?”

“No,” Nolan says, voice sleep rough and even deeper than usual.

“I’ve got a plus one to a wedding, do you want to come?”

Nolan blinks at him a couple times then says, “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Travis asks.

“Yeah,” Nolan replies and turns his head back under the pillow.

Travis grins. “Okay, sweet. Don’t forget.”

“Won’t,” Nolan says, and Travis pats his shoulder.

Both his mom and dad are already in the kitchen, and the coffee is on. He gratefully pours himself a cup, knowing he won’t have time to stop before work, and greets them both. He can feel their eyes on him as he gets a bowl of cereal but no one says anything until he relays the info about Nolan still being asleep upstairs.

“You guys have been spending a lot of time together,” his mom says carefully.

“Not really,” Travis hedges around a bite. “Not with work and stuff, not as much.”

“You seem pretty close though,” she tries. Travis glances at her, hesitant. He isn’t sure where she’s going with this. “You know you can tell us anything.”

“Okay,” Travis draws out.

His dad stops pretending that he’s not eavesdropping and says, “We’re always behind you, one hundred percent, kiddo.” It’s essentially the store motto and it’s weird to have it turned on him like this.

He takes another bite and chews with consideration. “There’s nothing to tell,” he mutters finally. “Don’t say anything weird to Nolan.”

“We haven’t said anything weird at all,” his mom argues.

“Everything you’ve said has been weird.” She frowns at him as he moves past her to put the bowl in the sink. “Just don’t, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, frown deepening.

He knows he should talk to them, he knows they’ve got his back, but there’s not a lot to say right now. He and Nolan are just friends, and aside from Travis’s giant crush that’s probably visible from space, things haven’t been any different between them than they ever were with Lawson. Lawson and Travis hang out all the time, and they never asked questions about it. Lawson and Travis slept in the same bed all the time too, and it was never a thing that needed talking about. Travis knows his feelings are big and loud and messy, and his parents have obviously noticed that he’s feeling _a way_ about Nolan, but it’s not like they’re dating. Nolan seems pretty content as friends, and Travis can live with that. It’s not like he’s in love with him, or anything, it’s just a gross, weird crush that he’ll learn to get over at some point. There’s absolutely nothing to tell, he doesn’t need to talk about it.

—

The only two options Travis has for formal events are his black suit from prom or a plaid suit that he and Law bought to match each other for a wedding last summer. Travis goes with the black. His mom has already steamed the creases out and left it hanging for him.

“Please put on a tie,” she says when he trots downstairs with the top two buttons open on his shirt, and he sighs and trudges back up. “Much better,” she affirms when he comes back down again. “We’re headed out now, please don’t be late.”

“Nolan should be here any minute, we’ll be right behind you,” he says.

She gives him a look, and Travis can tell she wants to say something but doesn’t, just smiles tightly and straightens his tie, fixes his collar.

Nolan shows up a few minutes later, jogging across the street to meet Travis on his porch. Travis doesn’t even have a chance to notice how good he looks in his suit because Nolan’s already blushing and it’s hard to look away from his pink cheeks. “I forgot to ask my mom to tie me a tie before everyone left,” Nolan says, holding a limp tie in his hand.

Travis grins and slips his finger into the knot of his own tie, loosening it. “Come here,” he says, pulling the tie over his head.

Nolan hesitates then leans forward, not breaking eye contact. His face is so close like this that Travis wouldn’t even have to reach to kiss him, but they’re in a hurry and that seems like something he probably shouldn’t be thinking about doing right now. He slips the tie over Nolan’s head, running his fingers all the way around Nolan’s collar to make sure it lies flat. He tightens the knot up to his throat, watches his adam’s apple bob.

“There,” Travis says, running his hand down Nolan’s chest just to make sure the tie sits straight. Nolan’s eyes flick down to his mouth for a second before following down to his throat as Travis pops those two top buttons open again. He grabs Nolan’s tie off his wrist and slips it into his pocket. “Let’s go.”

Nolan stumbles after him to his truck. The wedding is out on the lake, about a ten minute drive, and Travis has to park way out on the road, all the closer spots already filled up. “My mom is going to murder me if we’re the last ones here,” he says as they hop out. He grabs Nolan’s hand and runs down the gravel road, towering pines on either side of them until they get to the yard where things start to open up.

He drops Nolan’s hand as they get close enough to hear the din of chatter. His mom and dad are with Chase and Lexi on the outskirts of the crowd, and his mom frowns at him hard as they approach. “We’re not late,” he grumbles. People haven’t even started to sit down yet, she has no reason to be looking at him like that. She touches Travis’s tie around Nolan’s neck, definitely recognizing it as his, and Travis knows he’s not going to get away with not talking about this anymore. She hugs Nolan, tells him how great he looks, and introduces him to Chase and his girlfriend.

The ceremony is beautiful, it’s the perfect day for a wedding, and the backdrop of pine trees and the lake really set the tone for the vows. Travis doesn’t tear up but it’s a close thing, he just loves these people, this place—the lake, his home—so much.

Everyone lines up to congratulate the new bride and groom after, crowded together and talking excitedly as they make their way up to G and Ry. Lawson finds them in line and holds them up, people stepping around them as Law grabs Travis’s open suit jacket and shakes him, frowning.

“Fully gutted you didn’t wear the suit,” he says. He’s got the loud, plaid monstrosity on and Travis pats his shoulder.

“Sorry, dude. You pull it off well,” Travis lies smoothly, giving Law his nastiest grin.

“Fucker,” he whispers as they edge forward in line.

Travis wholly forgets that Claude knows anything until Claude’s already asked, “He’s your date?” and Travis has answered, “Yeah,” once they reach the front of the line.

“That’s great, I’m really happy for you guys,” Claude says, all heartfelt and genuine, smiling at Nolan.

Realization hits Travis and he thinks, _oh shit_, and flings himself at Ryanne under the guise of a hug, frantically whispering, “We’re not dating, make him shut up.”

Ryanne is unequivocally the best and Claude simply does not deserve her despite their beautiful wedding vows because she doesn’t even hesitate, just rolls with it and says, “Claude, your grandma!” and drags him away from their own greeting line.

Lawson is choking back laughter and Nolan looks confused, but Travis can’t even begin to think up anything to explain it away. He ignores it in favor of abandoning Nolan with Lawson and finding a bathroom at the back of the house to take a couple of deep breaths in.

Ryanne corners him right after, asking, “What the hell was _that_?”

So much for those calming breaths. “I’m sorry, it’s a big misunderstanding,” he rushes out. “G overheard me telling Law about my huge crush on Nolan and now he thinks we’re dating. We’re not.”

“Does he know that?”

“Claude?” Travis asks, voice inflecting high in his desperate confusion.

Ryanne sighs. “Nolan.”

“Nolan knows we’re not dating,” Travis replies.

“You sure about that?” Ryanne asks, giving him a look so dubious that Travis actually has to take a second to consider if they’re still talking about the same thing.

Annoyed, Travis says, “Yes!”

She cocks an eyebrow at him. “Have you tried talking to him?”

“We talk all the time,” Travis tells her.

She sighs again, walking away abruptly. Travis overhears her muttering something about not having time for idiot boys.

He hasn’t even made it back to the thick part of the crowd in his search for Law and Nolan when Chase cuts into his path. “Hey, come walk with me.”

“Dude, what?” Travis asks, following as Chase starts off toward the edge of the woods.

“You know you could have told me, right?”

“What?” Travis asks again.

“About Nolan.”

“What about him?”

“Mom said you were being stupid about this,” Chase grumbles.

“Mom doesn’t know anything,” Travis fires back.

Chase glares. “Look, you brought him as your date, Travis. You had to realize people were going to think you’re dating.”

“I take Lawson everywhere as my date and no one ever says anything about that.”

“Everyone knows you and Lawson and how you are with each other,” Chase whispers angrily. “No one knows Nolan, _you brought him as your date_,” he enunciates pointedly. “It’s different.” Travis stares at him, and Chase takes a deep breath through his nose and rubs his brow, calmly asking, “Do you have feelings for him?” Travis looks down to his brother’s shoes, taking notice that they’re both wearing the same pair. “Trav,” Chase pushes a little more firmly.

“Yes, okay? Yes,” Travis whispers into the space between them.

“Are you okay with people knowing that you have feelings for him?” he asks in a very careful and precise way, pausing to choose each word.

“Yes,” Travis replies.

“Does he have feelings for you?”

Travis clenches his fist at his sides, shaking his head. He unfurls his fingers to rub at his temples, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose. Chase waits. “I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I don’t think so.”

“He came with you to a wedding where he doesn’t know anyone. He came with you as your date.”

“I didn’t ask him as a date,” Travis mutters.

“He’s here as your date,” Chase repeats.

Travis isn’t convinced. He doesn’t tell Chase that, but as much as Chase pretends to be smart, he doesn’t know everything. Travis will admit that he fucked up here and didn’t think things through as well as he should have. He didn’t account for people not knowing Nolan and assuming him and Travis were _together_-together. It’s not as though Travis thinks that’s a bad thing—he wishes this were a fucking date, after all—but it’s not what Nolan signed up for. Everyone meeting him for the first time as Travis’s date definitely isn’t sending the message that Nolan wants to telegraph to the whole town. It’s not even like he’s meeting everyone as Nolan Patrick, new guy from Winnipeg. Because of Travis he’s meeting everyone as Nolan, Travis Konecny’s boyfriend, which doesn’t even have the decency to be true. Travis knows he’s dumb but this is a whole new level of fucking failure for him.

He finds Lawson and Nolan at a table in the tent. There’s a couple of flutes of champagne on the table and Travis doesn’t care whose they are, he downs one and then a second.

“Ya good there, bud?” Law asks, visibly laughing at him.

“Fuck off, Lawson,” Travis grumbles.

Everyone begins to file into the tent, all the normal reception stuff under way. The toasts and speeches go on for a long time, and the mic gets passed to Travis eventually. Someone says _oh boy_, and Travis laughs uncomfortably into the microphone. He starts with Ryanne and how wonderful she is, and _Claude’s okay too, I guess_, which gets him a little smattering of laughter and he rolls on. He tries not to be too tender but he can’t help but talk about how much his family appreciates G and his leadership, how lucky their community is to have the Girouxs in it. He must do okay by the time he passes the mic on because his mom looks like she doesn’t want to rip his head off for the first time all night.

Travis is more careful with his introductions as he makes the rounds, making sure to introduce Nolan as his friend. He keeps to the facts—Nolan’s family just moved here, they’re from Winnipeg, they live right across the street. After the first couple of people, Nolan is forcing a tight lipped polite smile, stiff and mechanical beside him. Travis makes a bee line for the dance floor. Lawson is flirting with one of the bridesmaids, dancing awkwardly while he continues trying to talk to her with his hands, and Travis cuts in.

“You guys should dance,” he says, pulling Law away. Nolan glares at him but the bridesmaid—Travis is pretty sure she’s Ryanne’s cousin from Toronto, Bre—shrugs and puts her arms around Nolan’s neck. Travis turns away, whispers, “dance with me right now,” at Lawson.

“You’re such a dick,” Law says, but he’s laughing and shaking his head. He doesn’t let Travis lead though.

Travis doesn’t see Nolan for awhile after that. He makes his way around the dance floor, working up a sweat with anyone who’s willing to dance with him.

The whole thing where his mom doesn’t want to murder him doesn’t last long, she finds him dancing and drags him outside by his shirt collar. “Nolan is sitting down by the water by himself,” she whisper-yells at him. “I asked him if he needed a ride home and he told me he didn’t want to be a bother. What did you do to make that boy look that sad, you dumbass?”

“Nothing!” Travis answers, and he can’t quite manage to keep the whine out of his voice in the face of his mother’s rage.

“Fix it,” she tells him firmly, leaving him in the dark, empty yard by himself.

Sighing, he slowly picks his way down to the dock. It’s dark out with only a sliver of moon and the distant stars to light the way. He’s almost halfway down the dock before he can distinguish the shape of Nolan’s wide shoulders where he’s sitting at the end.

“Hey,” he says once he’s close enough to actually see him clearly. He’s got his shoes off, feet dangling in the water. “Were you ready to head out?”

“No rush. Whenever you’re going,” Nolan says, not looking up. His mom was right, the tension is almost radiating off him—it makes Travis’s skin feel tight just being close to him. It’s obvious he’s not having a good time. Travis shifts, uncomfortable.

“It’s not a big deal, I can take you home.”

Nolan’s feet splash as he pulls them out of the water. He stands and puts his shoes back on, not bothering with socks or to dry his feet. “Are you good to drive?” Nolan asks him tightly.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. I only had a little champagne and I’ve been dancing. I’m all good,” Travis says.

Nolan nods once, turning abruptly toward solid ground. Travis follows behind him awkwardly, not sure what to do, what to say. He wonders if something happened, or if—like his mom said—he did this. He wants to ask but he’s so scared of the answer that the words clog up in his throat, reaching all the way down into his stomach to make it heavy with dread. This night was too much, Travis’s feelings too obvious, so close to the surface. Nolan had to have noticed.

Their feet crunch loudly on the gravel, echoing off the trees around them. Travis has to walk fast to keep up with Nolan’s long strides. The truck seems so much further out than when they got here. The silence inside is crushing, and Travis sits under the weight of it. There’s hardly any distance between them, but it might as well be miles. He can’t even hear Nolan breathing he’s gone so still. Travis shakes under the pressure.

“If you can’t drive—” Nolan starts, voice shockingly loud.

“I’m fine,” Travis says. He forces his hands to be steady and jams the key into the ignition.

Everything is dark out here, no streetlights. The hazy green glow of the dashboard isn’t enough to see by, but Travis steals glances just to make sure Nolan is still there, that he hasn’t disappeared into the silence. He stops at a sign, waits even though the car is far enough off that he could have turned, but the headlights as it approaches light up the cab and Travis can see Nolan, staring out the window, knuckles pressed to the glass, tracing the shoreline in the distance. The car rushes past and then it’s quiet again, dark.

“I’m sorry if I…” Travis trails off. He can’t say nothing, but he can’t say everything either. “If I was too much. I don’t know what I did.” He’s still at the stop sign, waiting. There’s no traffic but home is just around the corner and he doesn’t want to be there yet. Travis hates not being able to see him. He wants to reach out and touch him. Everything would seem so much easier if he could touch him. But the pale curve of Nolan’s neck, the inside of his wrist, look like porcelain in the moonlight, delicate, and Travis feels like a sledgehammer, heavy handed and _wrong_. “I didn’t think—”

“Seems like you never do,” Nolan cuts him off.

It could be a joke, just a chirp Travis has heard a hundred times over for the dumb shit that comes out of his mouth, but it’s not that. His voice isn’t light when he says it. It’s mean. It’s cutting. It’s supposed to hurt, and it does.

Travis lets off the brake, turns toward home. It’s like blinking, and they’re already there. Travis is in Nolan’s driveway, and Nolan is getting out.

He reaches out, puts his hand on the back of Nolan’s before he can leave completely. “I thought we were friends,” Travis pleads, desperate to cling to anything.

“I get it, all right?” Nolan snaps, yanking his hand away. “We’re just friends.”

He slams the door and Travis sits frozen in his truck, letting that sink in. _Just friends_.

He _gets it_. Gets that Travis is gone for him, and put it right on out there for everyone to see, loud and careless. _Just friends_.

Travis smashes his hands against the steering wheel, yells, “Fuck,” loud enough for it to bounce around the inside of the cab and crash back into him. He rests his head forward on the wheel and tries to catch his breath.

He only has to put his truck in reverse to get home. He parks, carefully gets out, goes inside, climbs the stairs to his room. He changes out of his suit, remembers Nolan’s tie in his pocket, and gently folds it into his desk drawer next to all of the sucker sticks.

He drives back out to the lake, finds Law and Provy at a table, grabs them all fresh beers, and gets so shit-faced sloshed that he doesn’t have to think about it anymore, can ignore the worried glances Law cuts his way without it even hurting. He doesn’t remember how he gets home, but he wakes up in the back of his truck in the driveway with the sun burning holes into his aching retinas and pukes all over his own shoes.

—

There’s something about being in the Patricks’s home that sets Travis on edge. It’s all white from floor to ceiling, and there’s glass or fragile finery on every surface. Being in there feels like a disaster waiting to happen every time for Travis.

It’s even worse when Travis is there just a couple of days later, Nolan looking anywhere but at him, and Travis trying not to let his rough, dirty hands touch anything breakable. Especially not Nolan.

Travis’s mom is going on thanking Carrie for inviting them over for dinner, telling her what a beautiful home she has, how lovely their family is, it’s so great, everything is wonderful, Nolan is such a sweet boy, he’s perfect. Nolan is perfect.

Travis forces his eyes away. Nolan won’t even look at him. Maddie steps forward and hugs Travis, giving him a sad smile like she knows something, and Travis can’t take that. Can’t take her knowing about his horrible crush on her little brother.

Steve, Nolan’s dad, is posted up behind Carrie, looking stern and bullish with his hands on her shoulders. He doesn’t say much, watching them all critically. Travis has only met him a couple times, and he never said much, quiet and intimidating. Quiet in the way Nolan is, like he’s absorbing everything around him, and intimidating in the way Nolan isn’t, like he’s gathering all that information to use it to his advantage later.

The house is huge and open, but Travis feels hemmed in by its walls. His mom told him he had to dress nice, so he did, and he feels like he’s in church, claustrophobic. He tries to run a hand through his hair but it’s crispy, gelled into submission. He wishes he could be out on the lake. He wishes Nolan could at least look at him. But if wishes were fishes, and all that good stuff.

The table is already set, red wine and a whole fancy meal. It’s a big enough table to seat twice as many, but Travis still ends up across from Nolan. His mom talks to Nolan, brings up how she hasn’t seen him over at the house lately like Travis hasn’t already made it clear that they’re not talking about it, and Travis tries not to notice how Nolan’s eyes skate right past him like he’s not even there.

“Travis,” he hears his dad say, and he makes himself to look away from Nolan.

“Sorry, what?” he asks.

“Steve was asking how fishing has been.”

Travis can do this. He can relay the latest reports from his customers, and tell his own stories from the lake, and he can pretend that Nolan isn’t sitting a meter away, talking to his mom but not him. He can be normal.

“So is everyone around here a full on redneck, or are just like half of you hicks?” Aimee asks unexpectedly.

Travis has a mouthful of wine and chokes on it, sloshing wine over the rim of his glass onto the white tablecloth as he tries to set it back down. He watches the red stain spread.

His parents are laughing, Carrie is laughing, Maddie’s calling Aimee rude. “Sorry,” Travis says to no one in particular. He looks up from the stain and catches Nolan staring at him. “Sorry,” he says again. He jerks back in his chair and stands up, mumbling, “Bathroom.”

He gets around the corner, down the hall, and has to lean back against the wall. He covers his eyes with his hands, head bowed, and tries to get himself together.

He didn’t hear anyone follow him, but Maddie’s voice is right beside him, saying, “You know you really fucked up.” Then, “Oh,” when she gets in front of him. He’s not crying, but it fucking hurts and he imagines Maddie can tell by the look on his face. She wraps him up in a hug and he lets her, leaning into it. He shudders a breath into her shoulder and tries to cram everything back down where it belongs, in the dark, hidden.

“Really?”

Travis looks up and Nolan is standing there, fists clenched at his sides, looking as mean as his dad. Travis turns his back and rubs at his eyes that feel too hot, burning. Maddie’s hand is still on his back, slowly pressing up and down his spine as he works to swallow past the lump in his throat. “You need to get your shit figured out,” she hisses angrily. “Both of you.”

He hears the door slide open, then roughly shut again. Maddie pushes between his shoulder blades and opens the door again, urging him out. “Go talk to him,” she says. He hears the lock click closed behind him and glances back at her through the glass. She smiles thinly and walks away. Travis steps forward.

“My sister?” Nolan questions wildly. “You want to rub it in my face? Fine. Fucking go for it. But my sister? Fuck!” He kicks one of the lounge chairs hard enough that it skids across the patio. He paces, bare feet slapping against the concrete with every thunderous step.

Travis moves closer. He’s never seen Nolan like this, volatile, angry. It’s oddly fascinating. He hates that Nolan is this hooked into him, that he forgets for a second and takes another step forward, drawn to him like a magnet. He wants to see every side of him, know him every way he can.

“What’s wrong with you? Do you get off on it? For weeks, you acted like we were going to…” He trails off, sinking down onto one of the chairs. He’s shaking.

Travis stands right in front of him, puts his hand onto the side of Nolan’s neck where it’s bright red. He’s burning hot, his pulse pounding against Travis’s palm.

“You can’t do this,” he says, desperate sounding. He turns his head so that his mouth touches the inside of Travis’s wrist when he talks. Every word looks like it hurts him to say, and his breath feels like fire against Travis’s skin. “You can’t _touch me_ like this and then say we’re just friends.”

“You said that we’re just friends,” Travis reminds him numbly.

Nolan’s fingers close bruising tight around Travis’s wrist and he pulls Travis’s hand away from his neck but doesn’t let go. “You,” he says. “You asked me to that wedding with you, and you made sure _everyone _knew that we’re just friends.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Don’t,” Nolan growls. “I don’t want to be your friend. I _can’t_ be your friend.”

It cracks through Travis like a gunshot, like he knew it would. Shatters him into a million pieces. Travis twists his wrist where Nolan’s still got it in his grip and wraps his fingers around Nolan’s wrist in return. He has to hold on to something, and Nolan is really the only thing he wants to hold onto.

“You either want me or you don’t. If you don’t, then fucking say it already. I can’t do this with you again. You don’t get to act like you want me and then make sure everyone knows that you don’t.”

“That’s what you thought?” Travis asks, gutted.

Nolan looks up him, his face cracked wide open with the pain Travis feels reflected right back at him. Jesus.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Travis’s knees give out and he sinks to the concrete in front of Nolan. He clutches his other hand into his shirt. He thinks he finally gets it, but in case he’s still doesn’t, he says, “Punch me if I’m wrong this time.”

Nolan’s mouth is open in a question when Travis surges up, crushes their lips together. Nolan doesn’t punch him, doesn’t pull away—he kisses him back, and Travis makes a helpless noise right into his mouth as he untangles his fingers from his shirt to get them into his hair, pulling their mouth together harder.

Nolan turns his head, reels Travis in closer by the neck. He breathes out hard against his ear, says, “God damn it. God damn it, you fucking dumbass.”

“I’m sorry,” Travis implores as Nolan clutches at his shoulders.

Travis pulls back to look at him, at his face, his eyes, his kiss-reddened lips. It’s like seeing him anew, and Nolan stares right back at him all the same. He pushes forward again, keeps pushing until Nolan is flat against the lounge chair, and can’t stop the whine that claws its way out of his throat as he climbs right on top of Nolan to kiss him. He slots between Nolan’s knees and parts their mouths just enough to say, “I should have done this the first time I saw you.”

“You would have if you were smart,” Nolan tells him. Travis kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him. “Your hair is terrible,” Nolan breathes heavy across his lips.

“I know,” Travis agrees, but Nolan kisses him anyway.

—

“Is this okay?” Travis asks earnestly, slipping his hand into Nolan’s as they walk toward Main Street. There’s a band performing, sound tinny from this far away, the crowd a loud hum in the distance. Aimee has taken to calling it the ‘Fish Festival’ and Travis hasn’t been able to think of it as anything else since.

“Yes,” Nolan says, rolling his eyes a little but Travis can see that he’s smiling. He thinks about kissing him, knows that he could, but doesn’t, thinks_, Later_.

They find Lawson loitering outside a booth that sells antique weaponry, chatting with the guy who runs it. Law takes one look at them and lets out the most over dramatic groan. “Jesus, finally.”

“Fuck off, Crouse,” Travis says, squeezing Nolan’s hand in his.

They walk through the aisles of booths. Nolan lets himself be swindled by a smooth talker into buying an ‘authentic’ signed Toews Team Canada jersey, and Travis laughs at him. Travis buys some hand-tied lures from an old man with shaky hands and swollen knuckles—a jig with iridescent blue feathers and a fly tied with an elk hair wing. He takes forever browsing before he decides, but Nolan doesn’t mind, helps Travis pick lures to get Chase and his dad for gifts. They hit the food trucks, get loaded up with greasy fried food and too-sweet lemonade. Travis spends an hour trying to beat one of those rigged water shooting carnival games until Nolan gets annoyed, sits down next to him, and beats it in the first go, shoving the teddy bear prize into Travis’s arms and completely ignoring Travis’s bewildered look. Travis buys another game and moves over into the seat that Nolan sat in, thinking it’s got to be the one spot that’s not rigged, but fails again and has to chase Nolan through the crowd because he’s walked away.

As they make their way closer to the stage, Travis starts to sway along with the band, raising an eyebrow at Nolan. “No,” Nolan says flatly and Travis grins, dragging him closer to the crowd. He keeps his hand in Nolan’s, dances at him, but Nolan just stares at him, unmoved.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Lawson says from close by, and Nolan agrees with him. Travis keeps dancing, spinning himself under Nolan’s arm even though he’s not actively participating.

“If you’re not going to dance with him, I will,” a girl says, stepping up beside Lawson. Travis grins at her, and Nolan’s hand closes tighter around his, pulling Travis to him.

Travis laughs against his chest while Nolan brings his arm up around his waist. _Jealous_. “You know, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Travis says pushing his face up to Nolan’s neck.

“Shut up,” Nolan grumbles, dances with him.

Lawson gets the girl to dance with him instead, and she sticks with them as they make their way back through the crowd. Nolan buys funnel cake.

“Sauce me,” Travis says, opening his mouth while he’s busy tying his shoe. Nolan, to Travis’s delight, grabs up some funnel cake between his fingers and feeds him.

Lawson tries to do the same to Claire, and she looks at him with disgust. “I don’t know where your hands have been.” Lawson shrugs and feeds himself.

Travis knows where Nolan’s hands have been, and he sucks the powdered sugar off his fingers, not breaking eye contact.

“Jesus Christ, you’re in public,” Lawson complains. “Stop being so horny.”

Lawson, for once, is right. They could not be in public right now and do so much more. “Okay, bye,” Travis says, standing abruptly, then pauses to wait for Nolan to catch on and walk with him back to the truck. “You gonna take me home?” Travis asks him hopefully.

“You drove,” Nolan replies.

“Spedantics,” he says with a shrug.

Nolan stops him beside the truck, staring at him blankly. “That’s not a word.”

“Whatever, look it up,” Travis mutters, climbing into the driver’s side. Nolan does look it up, reads him the definition of pedantic, and then semantics. “Like you knew,” he grouses.

“I did,” Nolan says. “Spedantics,” he repeats, and they don’t make it out of public, Travis sliding across the bench seat to kiss him, to shut up his gloating.

The truck cab is way too hot, even with the sun down it’s still humid as hell out, and it takes no time at all to start breathing heavy, sweat beading up. Travis groans, frustrated as he sits back into the driver’s seat. He’s not ready to say goodnight, but he drives them home.

“You want to play some one-on-one?” he asks as he parks in his own driveway.

“Hockey?” Nolan questions carefully.

Travis snorts. “I’ll play whatever other one-on-one you have in mind.”

Nolan runs over to his house while Travis drags a net out of the garage and sets it up in the street. He finds one of the lighted balls Murphy hasn’t managed to get a hold of that still works. Travis brings Nolan the only stick they have that’s long enough for him, keeps his usual best stick for himself.

When he meets Travis in the street, he’s got a backwards cap on and a sucker in his mouth. Travis thrills at finally getting to suck the cherry flavor off of his tongue. “You do it on purpose,” he says, complaining but not really, licking the sucker before Nolan can put it back between his own lips.

“Do what?” Nolan asks dumbly, eyes caught on Travis’s mouth.

Travis laughs. “You know what.”

Travis doesn’t have to remind him, he gives Travis the gum center without question and Travis pockets the stick to add to his weird Nolan collection. Nolan doesn’t hold back when they start playing. He gets competitive, body checking Travis without restraint, and sends him sprawling down to the tar once.

“Fuck you, that’s roughing!” Travis whines, steals the ball off his stick once he’s popped back up to his feet, and sends a wrister into the net.

“It was a good hockey play,” Nolan argues, wrapping his arm around Travis’s waist from behind while he collects the ball one handed.

“Holding,” Travis yells. He pushes his hips back against Nolan, tries to break his hold but Nolan just grins against Travis’s neck, kissing below his ear. “Unsportsmanlike conduct!”

He twists and two-hand chops Nolan’s stick out of his grip and scores again. “Slashing,” Nolan protests.

Travis grabs his face between his hands and kisses him, bites his lip. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Whatever I want,” Nolan says.

“Oh yeah?” Travis taunts, pushing up on his toes so that every part of his body is pressed against Nolan’s. “Show me.”

“No one is home at my house.”

“Is that why you went in? To check to see if you could take me home for real?” he teases. Nolan’s hands are on his hips, holding him in place. They’re so big, Travis wants them all over his body. They haven’t done anything but kiss yet, but he wants to. God, he wants to. “Help me put this stuff away,” he says, pulling back to give Nolan both the sticks, the ball, while he drags the net up to the garage. He expects Nolan to take him to the house, but he doesn’t, leading him to the backyard instead. “Are there cameras back here?” Travis asks dubiously.

“Not inside the fence,” Nolan responds. He points up as he opens the gate and Travis clocks the camera above them, squinting at it. It’s aimed away from the yard, covering the gate entrance and the driveway behind them.

That’s good enough for him. They don’t turn any of the yard lights on, and Travis has to pick his way over to a lounge chair to leave his clothes as he strips them off. He finds the edge of the pool and jumps in. He hears Nolan jump in further down and swims toward him. It’s dark enough back here that he can’t see Nolan until he’s almost on top of him, and he grins, dragging his hand across Nolan’s chest and swimming away.

“What was it you were going to show me?” Travis calls from the other side of the pool. Nolan swims toward his voice, but Travis moves quietly through the water. He can’t see Nolan but he can hear what direction he is, where he’s moving. “Is there something you wanted to do?” he asks, now on the opposite side from where he started.

There’s complete silence after he speaks and he knows Nolan has caught on and stopped moving. Travis shivers. He hears water move ever so slightly and backs up slowly until he hits the wall, moving against the edge of the pool. Nolan surfaces from under the water close enough that Travis can see the back of his head and he holds his breath, moving further down the wall. The water splashes violently and Travis uses the noise as cover, moves all the way into the corner, but Nolan must have seen him or heard him because he rams into him, pushes him against the wall. Travis digs his knees into Nolan’s sides, grabs handfuls of his wet hair, and bites his jaw.

“Took you long enough.”

Nolan huffs, puts his hands on Travis’s hips, then jerks them away again. “You’re naked,” he says accusingly.

“Well, yeah,” Travis says. “I thought we were skinny dipping.” He slides his legs lower down Nolan’s waist, and they hit fabric. He took his shirt off but left his shorts on. _Fucking nerd_. “You’re _not_ naked.”

He pushes his fingers under Nolan’s waistband and waits, but Nolan doesn’t stop him so he nudges them down as far as he can, has to use his feet to get them all the way off Nolan’s long legs. The shorts slap loudly on the concrete when he tosses them over his shoulder.

“That’s better.” Travis grins as Nolan crowds him against the wall of the pool and then kisses his grin away. He drags his fingers down Nolan’s stomach, and Nolan goes more still the lower he gets. “Can I?” he asks. Nolan’s pubes are course against his fingertips and it’s kind of weird to be touching them, but also pretty hot. Nolan nods. Travis wraps his fingers around the base of his dick and slides them up to the tip. He can’t help the pleased noise he makes, stroking slowly from tip to base and back again. “It’s nice,” he says.

Nolan lets out a heavy breath and asks, “It’s nice?”

“Yeah,” Travis tells him. “I mean I can’t see it but I can tell.” He brings his other hand down to the base, thumbs over the head with his top hand. “Really nice,” he says. Nolan shudders. “Maybe you should get out?” The thought of him coming in the pool just seems gross. Chlorine and filters would probably take care of it, but it still seems nasty and like, not a cool thing to do in the family pool .

Nolan twists and levers himself up onto the edge of the pool, and Travis wishes he could see him better as he shoulders his way forward between his knees. He spits into his hand and wraps it around Nolan’s cock. “Fuck,” Nolan whispers, hooking his ankle around Travis’s side in the water. This close up, he can see how thick it looks in his hand, and quakes, even more turned on than he already was. He reaches his other hand under Nolan’s leg and finds his fingers on the concrete, and intertwines them, locking their hands together.

He turns his face against Nolan’s thigh, pressing open-mouthed kisses into his chlorine tasting skin. As he moves higher, Nolan grips his hand tight enough to hurt, keeps going higher, hearing Nolan’s breaths going tight. He presses his open mouth to the underside of Nolan’s cock and Nolan’s other hand wraps into his hair, holding.

“Trav, don’t,” Nolan bites out. “I’m going to come.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Travis asks, lips pressed right there, moving against him, and feels Nolan’s cock flex against his tongue, coming all over his fingers. He licks the taste off as he works him through it, tongue catching against the head. Nolan gasps, heel digging into Travis’s back.

“God,” he pants.

“That’s right, baby,” Travis says, pleased.

“Get up here,” Nolan breathes, pulling Travis’s hair only a little bit as he guides him.

Travis pushes himself up out of the water, gets a knee on the edge and Nolan crashes their mouths together, almost unbalancing Travis back into the pool before leaning backward, bringing Travis with him. Travis’s dick drags through the mess of Nolan’s come on his belly and he groans into his mouth, grinding down against him. Nolan slicks his hand between them, jerking Travis off tight and fast. He breaks the kiss to look down between them and swears.

“This is poor planning.”

“Huh?” Nolan asks.

“I want to _see_.”

“Later,” Nolan promises.

Travis moans at the prospect, thinks about getting to come on Nolan’s face sometime and goes off like a rocket. He fits his hand tight around Nolan’s and holds it still, fucking into their grip until he can’t take it anymore and collapses half on top of him and half against the rough concrete. He’s buzzing from the good orgasm, and has an aftershock at the thought that he gets to do this with Nolan now.

He turns his face into Nolan’s armpit and licks it.

“You’re so weird,” Nolan says, but he’s fond, petting the back of Travis’s head.

“You have no idea,” Travis warns. “I want to do so many weird things to you.”

Nolan tilts his head to look down at Travis through the dark. “I’ll probably let you.”

—

Even with the day off, Travis is up early. He’s never been great at sleeping in. Before his dad heads off to the store, he asks him to help get the canoe off the rack. It hasn’t been out on the water all year, and he wants to make sure it’s in tip top shape before he takes it out on the lake. He murmurs his thanks to his dad, and his dad claps him on the back, pointing out a couple of the rougher looking areas on the canoe that need a touch up. Travis already knows but he smiles and nods at his dad anyway. He flips on the old radio and finds a pack of sandpaper, gets to work scuffing off the old varnish to the bare surface for recoating.

He’s busy sanding and singing along to Shania Twain when a shadow cuts across the sun-lit garage and Travis notices he’s not alone. “Fuck,” he startles loudly, then realizes it’s Nolan’s dad and says, “Shit, sorry.” Steve’s frown deepens and Travis rushes to turn down the radio. “Hi, sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“Just got here,” Steve says, running a finger along the gunwales of the canoe.

“Oh, cool.” Travis… doesn’t know what to do. He shifts uncomfortably, grabbing up the sandpaper again and working at the patch he hadn’t quite finished yet. Steve stands there and watches for a while, not saying anything. Travis starts to ramble nervously, telling him about the canoe—how his dad built it with his grandpa when he was a teenager, how they cut, shaped, and glued every piece of wood together. He explains what he’s doing now, sanding down the spots that have started to wear thin so they can soak up a new coat of varnish to protect them from any other damage.

“You take care of things well,” Steve says. Travis glances up at him, unsure what to say to that, and Steve is watching him.

“Thank you,” Travis tries carefully. Steve nods and Travis fixes his focus back onto the canoe before he hyperventilates. It’s so unnerving to be alone with him.

“We would like to have you over for dinner this evening, if you’re free,” Steve says eventually.

“Okay,” Travis responds. Steve continues to follow his every movement. Travis doesn’t know what to say, how to respond to him. There’s something about him that makes Travis inherently nervous, and he can’t figure out how he’s supposed to act. He also isn’t sure if Steve _knows_ about Nolan and him, and it adds a whole extra level of uncertainty.

“We’ll see you then?” Steve says.

Travis brushes sawdust off his hands, turns to Steve and asks, “Huh?”

“Tonight? Dinner?”

“Oh, yeah. Yes, of course. Thanks for the invite, I’ll be there.”

Steve nods, gives Travis a grin that unnerves him, and walks away. Travis exhales deeply, leaning against the side of the canoe. He’s going to have to get used to this, and he’s going to have to talk to Nolan about it. Figure out what he’s allowed to show, what’s okay to say, and what he’s supposed to keep hidden. If Steve isn’t good with them being together, Travis is going to need to figure out how to act around him, especially when Nolan’s around.

Nolan shows up not much later, looking like he just rolled out of bed, put on a pair of slides, and walked over. He’s rumpled, pillow creases on his face, hair all fluffy-soft, still knuckling sleep out of his eyes. “My dad said you’re coming to dinner,” Nolan says, voice deep and slow. He’s so fucking pretty that it hurts a little bit to look at him.

“Yeah,” Travis tells him, wiping his palms clean on a rag and crossing the garage to get his hands on Nolan. He wraps a fist into his shirt, starts to pull him down to kiss him, but then blurts out, “He scares the shit out of me.” Nolan stares at him for a second before he bursts out laughing, right into Travis’s face. Travis scowls when he just keeps going. “It’s not funny,” Travis grumbles.

“Oh god,” Nolan says through laughter, turning his face into Travis’s hair, snorting a little bit.

“It’s really not that funny,” Travis repeats, heartfelt, punching his hand against Nolan’s stomach softly. “I feel like he’s going to murder me if he finds out about us.”

Nolan is almost breathless, still giggling against him. Travis sighs, waits for whatever is so funny about this to pass. “No,” Nolan gasps. “It’s just—” He can’t get the words out, snickering, and Travis shoves him away. Nolan clings to him, stumbling after him, not letting him go. “Your _face_. I couldn’t figure out why you’re always so weird around him,” Nolan finally manages. “You get all uptight and tense when he’s around. You’re _scared_ of him.”

“Oh my god,” Travis whines. “Why are you being so mean about this? He’s _scary_.”

“I’m not,” Nolan says. He’s a liar. Travis frowns at him when Nolan backs up to look at him. “And he’s really not. He knows about us, and he’s definitely not going to kill you.” He says it with a straight face, but then cracks a grin like he can’t help himself. “He likes you, thinks you’re funny. Said you knew every word to _Man! I Feel Like A Woman!_”

“Like you don’t,” Travis scoffs. Asks, “He knows about us?”

“I mean, yeah. My parents have known I’m gay for a while so it’s not really a big deal.” Nolan shrugs. “Do your parents not…” He doesn’t finish, looking uncomfortable.

Travis wraps his arms around Nolan’s waist, pulling him in. “I haven’t told them, exactly, but they thought we were together that night I made you sleep over.”

Nolan chokes, face going red. He covers his eyes with a hand, shaking his head. “Oh god,” he groans. “Your mom was so nice to me. I just thought she felt sorry for me.”

“She probably did. I was really stupid.”

“You were,” Nolan agrees.

“Hey, you were too,” Travis protests.

Nolan grabs his face and kisses him. Any unease Travis felt flits away, forgotten, Nolan fitting perfectly against him. This is everything he wants. Nolan’s dad might be vaguely terrifying but Travis wants to make sure Steve always has a reason to like him, for him to always believe Travis can take care of things. He’ll go to dinner tonight and prove it. Prove just how good he is for Nolan.

“We got smart though,” Nolan says sweetly.

They did.

Travis kisses him, means for it to be soft but Nolan pushes against him, licks into his mouth. Travis hums, sliding his fingers through Nolan’s hair, down his neck, over his shoulders, all the way down to the bottom of his shirt and underneath, dragging across his skin to pull him closer. Nolan clutches at his hips, palms his ass, slots them together, kisses him deep and dirty, and Travis grinds against him, eager.

“Fuck,” he moans, breaking away. “We have to stop. I have to finish this.” Nolan squeezes his ass, rocks forward into Travis, mouths at his neck. “Oh fuck,” Travis pants, and arches against him. The canoe skids behind him as they knock into it, and Travis grasps for it wildly before it can tip or fall. He stares at Nolan, wide eyed, as Nolan backs away, grinning. “You fucker,” he hisses.

“We still going out on the water today?” Nolan asks, like he’s somehow collected after that. He pretends to be unbothered but Travis can see the outline of his hard dick through his shorts so he’s not really fooling anybody.

“Yes,” Travis says vehemently. The wood beneath his hands groans with how tightly he’s squeezing it to keep himself from moving. He wants to push Nolan into the dark corner of the garage, sink to his knees, and just stay there for a while.

“Okay, I’ll see you later then,” Nolan tells him. His smirk is nasty, like he knows exactly what Travis is thinking and how keyed up he is, like he knows what Travis wants to do to him.

Nolan walks away, and Travis cranks the radio back up, focuses on the task at hand, not letting himself think too hard about what Nolan could be doing in the privacy of his own bedroom. He wipes down the canoe, stirs the varnish carefully, and starts to brush it on in a thin, even coat.

While the first coat dries, he loads the boards and paddles into the back of his truck. He’s going to take Nolan up river to paddle their way back into town. They’ll take the canoe out on the lake a different time. He goes inside to clean up and get changed, carefully applies the second coat of varnish, and fires off a text telling Nolan to meet him in twenty. He packs up towels and sunscreen, and asks his mom to drive them to their drop site a couple miles north of town.

They all crowd into his truck, Travis in the middle of the bench seat pressed to Nolan’s side. His mom is being eerily quiet, and Travis knows it’s in an effort not to ask him anything that he doesn’t want to talk about. He’s been kind of an asshole, trying to avoid talking about how much he’s wanted this.

He sighs loudly, grabs Nolan’s hand, and says, “We’re dating.”

His mom doesn’t react, just says, “That’s nice, honey.”

Travis glances at Nolan and he’s biting back a smile, watching the scenery pass by. “That’s it?” Travis asks. “All you’re going to say is ‘that’s nice?’”

“What do you want me to say? I’m just happy you finally figured it out,” she says.

Nolan’s shoulders shake, trying to fight back laughter and Travis leans into his side hard, crushing him against the door. Everyone’s a jerk. “Well, thanks, I guess,” he says dryly.

“You’re welcome, honey,” she replies, succinct, turning onto the gravel path that leads back to the river. She parks and Nolan opens the door, but she stops them before they get out. “Come here.” She pulls Travis toward her, beckoning Nolan closer too. Nolan leans into his back and she hugs them both. “I’m very happy for you. You boys have fun.”

Travis grabs the sunblock and pulls off his shirt, stripping Nolan’s off him too, to leave in the truck. He unloads the gear from the back and waves his mom off.

“Hate to see what happens to a bag of milk when it’s left out in the sun too long,” Travis says as he rubs sunscreen into Nolan’s shoulders. He’s not so pale anymore, darkened up from all the sun exposure, but he isn’t as tan as Travis. Nolan swipes at him, and Travis jerks away, loading up a fistful of sunscreen and slapping it wetly onto Nolan’s chest, rubbing it in. “Oh yeah, money shot.”

“You’re disgusting,” Nolan tells him.

“You like it,” Travis says, wiping some onto his face. Nolan doesn’t deny it, just closes his eyes and lets Travis rub the sunblock in. “Do me.” Travis hands him the bottle, spreads his arms, and grins widely. Nolan’s lips press together, refusing to respond as he spreads the lotion over Travis’s chest. “You’re no fun,” he complains. Nolan pinches his nipple between slippery fingers and Travis gasps out a laugh, jerking away.

The water isn’t overly cold as they wade in, but it’s not quite the dog days of summer yet and it travels down from the north so it’s not entirely warm either. Travis hops on his board quickly, starts to paddle out. It’s a cloudless day, and they’ll be out in the sun the whole way. There will be a good spot to stop and swim about halfway back to town. He turns to find Nolan and he’s still on his knees, wobbly as he tries to get to his feet. His board careens into Travis’s, and Travis nearly overbalances, catching himself and then bracing against Nolan’s shoulders.

“Babe, have you never done this before?”

“No,” Nolan replies. “Looks easy though. I’ll figure it out.”

Travis drops back down onto his knees. Tells him to move forward a little further, then shows him one foot at a time and smoothly up. Nolan does exactly that and stands, finding his balance after a second of wobbling. Travis paddles slowly, showing him the proper hold and to keep the paddle close to the board to go straight forward. He’s got it after that.

The river doesn’t have much current through this winding pass, but it’s enough to keep them slowly moving if they stop paddling. It’s quiet, houses few and far between until they get closer to town. They see a couple of deer, spook up a few cranes and a whole family of loons which is cute as hell. Travis drops to sit on his board, straddling it with his feet in the water, and Nolan follows him a little more carefully. Travis hooks their ankles together.

“Fun, right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Nolan says, leaning toward him.

Travis grins and meets him halfway, kissing him. He doesn’t expect Nolan to yank him right off his board and into the water. Travis surfaces, sputtering. Nolan sits on his board, smug and way too confident for a guy who had never been on a paddleboard until an hour ago. Travis grabs his leg under the water.

“Your board is getting away from you, bud,” Nolan says, pointing downstream with his paddle.

Travis swears and swims after it. He slips back onto the board and paddles quickly around the next bend, swimming up to shore and crouching with his board behind a boulder. Nolan comes around the bend a second later.

“Trav,” he calls uneasily. Travis leaps onto the boulder and launches himself at Nolan, crashing into him and sending them both deep into the water. “I don’t know what I expected,” Nolan says, shoving his hair off his face when he surfaces. Travis clings one arm around Nolan’s shoulders, the other over the board, and kicks toward shore. “You’re fucking ruthless. I think you broke one of my ribs.”

“Oh no, poor baby. I’ll kiss it better,” Travis says.

Nolan shoves Travis underwater, then clambers on top of him, pushing Travis’s face to his side. “Right there.”

Travis looks up at him and licks the spot. He tastes like river water and sunscreen, and Travis doesn’t hate it. He sinks his teeth in _right there_. Nolan hisses and grabs his hair, pulling his head back and leaning in to kiss him messily. He sinks down to fit his hips between Travis’s thighs and Travis squeezes his legs around him, holding him in place. He bites at Nolan’s lips, his neck, licks his collarbone scar and pushes at his bruised ribs. Nolan sucks in a breath, shifting against him.

“You remember the first time we were like this?” Travis asks. “You pushed me into some rocks and bruised me in almost the same spot. Held me down in the water just like this. I went home and jerked off about you so hard I almost blacked out.”

“Yeah? You were into me even then?” Nolan rolls his hips against Travis’s, hand clutching at Travis’s against his side.

“All I’ve wanted to do since I first saw you is kiss you and put my hands all over you,” Travis admits easily.

Nolan crushes their mouths together again. Pulls away to say, “Do it. Do whatever you want.”

Travis grabs his ass, urges him up. “Come on. Get up here. I want to see it.”

Nolan gets his knees on either side of Travis’s waist and they both fumble for the ties of his shorts, fingers tangling ineffectually before Travis settles for gripping the waistband, ready to jerk them down as soon as they’re loose. Nolan pushes them down from the front and Travis pulls from the sides until his shorts are bunched as low on his widespread thighs as they’ll go. He grasps one hand onto Nolan’s bare ass, wraps the other around his cock and strokes down, thumb dragging over the head and along the underside.

“Your cock is as pretty as the rest of you,” he says.

Nolan’s already pink but he blushes harder. “God, Travis,” he sighs, shuddering. “That’s fucking weird.”

“It’s not weird.” He drags the pads of his fingers over the slick head, twisting his wrist on the down stroke, and Nolan’s head tilts back, adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re fucking pretty all over.” Nolan slides his hand over Travis’s mouth, covering it, shutting him up. Travis cranks his head away, says, “I want to spread you out and see all of you. Wanna see you touch yourself.” Nolan shoves his fingers into Travis’s mouth, and Travis sucks on them, works his mouth over them at the same speed as his hand on Nolan’s cock. He’s _red_, and Travis doesn’t know if it’s embarrassment or if he’s this flushed from being turned on. Travis can’t wait to find out if he’s like this every time. He slides off the end of Nolan’s fingers, licking his fingertips. “Wanna make you come all over yourself.” He takes Nolan’s fingers in deep, sucks on them hard and tightens his grip on his cock. Nolan gasps and comes on Travis’s chest, his throat, shuddering through it. “Mm,” Travis hums once he’s eased off. Slides his fingers through Nolan’s come. “That’s for real the money shot, eh?”

Nolan laughs, leaning back languidly to rest his weight over Travis’s hard dick, palms flat on Travis’s stomach. He looks so fucking happy and Travis never wants to stop seeing him like this. Nolan rolls his hips, slowly rocking against Travis, and Travis grips his thighs. There’s no hurry, he can stay like this awhile. But Nolan has other plans, leaning down to kiss Travis and swing off his lap. He ties his shorts back up, pulls Travis to his feet and pins his hips back against the boulder. He’s got Travis’s shorts around his knees and Travis’s cock in his mouth before Travis can even blink and catch up.

“Fuck,” Travis moans, holding onto Nolan’s hair and watching his dick slide between his lips. Nolan glances up at him and Travis cups his jaw, thumb pressed to the corner of his mouth. “Oh fuck, baby.” Nolan pins him harder to the rock, swallows him deeper, pressed to the roof of his mouth. His eyes slip closed and he moans around Travis’s cock like he loves it, sucks him wetly, all soft inside, encompassing heat. “Nolan,” Travis warns weakly, pulling at his hair. Nolan wraps his fingers around Travis’s dick, holds him there, lapping his tongue over the head. Travis watches, transfixed, as he goes off in Nolan’s mouth, and he tries to swallow, come leaking from the corners of his mouth.

Travis sinks to his knees, pressing kisses to Nolan’s messy lips, licking into his filthy mouth. He never imagined wanting to taste himself on someone else’s tongue, but he wants every piece of Nolan, needs to know what he tastes like with Travis mixed in, to memorize how he looks while part of Travis is inside of him. Nolan slowly sinks backwards and Travis follows, wrapped up in him, the river winding gently around them.

“We ever gonna do this in a bed?” he asks lazily, not really caring if they never do. Being out in the water, wilderness all around them, suits them just fine.

“Probably at some point,” Nolan says. And that’s a thought in itself, having the time and space, a bed, to spread Nolan out. Nolan’s half hard against his hip, and he imagines getting to have him naked, slicking up his fingers and pressing them into him, stretching him out, making him moan and squirm down onto Travis inside of him.

“I don’t know how I’m still horny after that,” Travis muses aloud, and Nolan snorts against his temple.

They get their boards on the water eventually, paddles extended between them, mooring them to each other as they float along side by side, stretched out on their backs. The shadows from the branches above them twist shapes over their faces as they slowly swirl along with the current. It’s lazy and dazed under the afternoon sun, water splashing over heated skin any time either of them moves. Travis could stay like this forever, just him and Nolan.

The water starts to move a little faster once they get closer to town, to the lake. Travis’s mom left the truck parked in the lot at the public beach just on the edge of town, keys hidden under the seat. There are people out in the water, loud, as they get closer. They haul their boards up to the truck, dry off, get their shirts back on. Travis takes Nolan back to Julie’s little deli counter for lunch, pressing against his side in the booth while Nolan’s arm is stretched out across his shoulders. Julie winks at him as she drops off the sandwiches at their table, and Travis grins. He tells every story he can remember for each picture Nolan picks out of him on the wall.

He drops Nolan at his house, goes home to shower and nap before getting ready to head over to Nolan’s for dinner.

Travis jogs across the street, knocks, and Nolan opens the door, pulls him inside. “I don’t know what they have planned, but Maddie and Aimee aren’t here,” he says, and Travis goes from feeling fine to nervous in a second flat. “You look nice,” Nolan tacks on, kissing Travis quickly. He leads him through the house.

Carrie and Steve are already seated at the table, talking quietly. Nolan pulls out the chair across from Carrie for Travis to sit, and Travis frowns at him, feeling like he already missed a cue.

“Travis, so glad you could make it,” Carrie says. She leans across the table to pour wine into a glass for Travis then Nolan.

“Thank you for having me. This looks great.”

It’s pleasant. Travis has no other word for it. The food is good, the wine tastes better than any of the others he’s tasted, and Carrie makes small talk easy. Steve doesn’t say much, but that’s not surprising. He’s not as unnerving when Travis isn’t alone with him, and now that he’s talked to Nolan, he doesn’t really have anything to worry about.

Of course he thinks that, and then Steve is asking about Travis’s future plans.

“Uh,” Travis says. Steve and Carrie are watching him, and Nolan starts to tell him he doesn’t have to answer that. Travis squeezes his hand under the table. Maybe it doesn’t sound great in the grand scheme of things, maybe his dreams aren’t big and lofty or something everyone can understand, but Travis is really happy at the store. He tells Nolan’s parents about working in the summers since he was sixteen, going full time right after graduation. He wants to start looking at buying land on the lake soon. Maybe buying a property with a cabin, maybe just the land and building one of his own. Chase will have his degree in a few months, will be truly done at the store and starting his life somewhere else as an environmental engineer, and Travis wants to stay here and keep the store going when his dad is done. “I know people usually dream about getting out, doing something bigger, but I really love it here. This is my home,” Travis finishes firmly.

“Sounds like you’ve really got your feet under you, kid,” Steve says, and Travis meets his eyes, surprised.

“Thank you. I’ve always been pretty sure about what I wanted.” Nolan squeezes his hand again, and Travis glances over at him and smiles because yeah, that counts. Maybe Travis didn’t know it before he met him, but once Nolan showed up, he was pretty sure about that too. “What brought you guys here anyway?”

He’s not expecting them to go quiet the way they do. “Things got really messed up in Winnipeg,” Nolan says vaguely.

“Oh.” Travis didn’t know that. He’s looking at Nolan, sees the scar on his collarbone under the loose collar of his shirt and thinks about how he still doesn’t know how he broke it. There’s so much they don’t know about each other, but he thinks they probably have a lot of time to figure it out.

“We all really needed a change of scenery,” Carrie says. “A change of pace. Since coming here, everything has been good. We all really like it here too. Well, maybe not Aimee.”

Travis laughs, and Nolan says, “Aimee likes it, she just thinks you’re all hicks but it’s not like Winnipeg was any better.”

They talk about the town, and the lake, and Travis’s family. His grandparents’ farm, the store, Chase’s degree to, like, save the environment or whatever. They talk about Maddie heading back to university soon, and Aimee starting grade ten, joining the hockey team. Nolan mentions looking into taking courses up in London, maybe talking to Travis’s dad about a job at the store. He glances at Travis through his eyelashes when he says it, like he’s not sure if it’s okay.

“My dad would probably give you Chase’s old position just so you could boss me around,” Travis says, and Nolan looks like he’d like that a little too much. But Travis already knows he’d like it too.

—

Travis already has the canoe loaded up, and a cooler packed to the brim with ice and the prissy canned hard seltzer G likes to drink. He’s been nonstop whining since the wedding about how Travis almost drank them out of house and home, so Travis owes him. He’s just waiting for Nolan to show up to head out to the lake.

“Finally,” he sighs when Nolan comes walking over. “Beauty takes time, I guess.” He grins, knowing Nolan will hate it.

“You definitely wouldn’t know,” he says, but pins Travis up against the side of the truck to kiss him like the liar that he is.

The party at the Girouxs usually goes all day. The families come for the lake, the big yard to turn their kids loose in, the big house to contain them all when they start to get tired. Everyone else stays for the bonfire later, the booze. There will be a lot of people there. Not as many as the wedding, but everyone Travis knows, some that Nolan has already met before.

As he parks, he reaches over and grabs Nolan’s hand, stops him from getting out yet. He’s pretty sure he knows, but he’s got to check, can’t fuck it up this time. “It’s okay that I call you my boyfriend, right? You’re okay with that?” He’s nervous, suddenly. Everything went so wrong last time they were here. He knows they’re dating now, they go out together, hold hands in public, Nolan kisses him out in the open where anyone could see them, but Travis has never actually called him his boyfriend before. He doesn’t want to be wrong.

“If you want to, yeah,” Nolan responds.

It’s too vague of an answer for Travis to let it go. “I’ve always wanted to,” he says. “That’s not the problem. I need to know what you want.”

“I want you, dumbass. And I don’t care who knows it.” He presses a kiss to the back of Travis’s hand before he gets out, and Travis meets him around the back of the truck to grab the cooler to carry it down to the yard. Travis has to try hard to suppress the stupid grin that’s threatening to take over his face.

G spots them as they’re dumping the cooler next to the others, comes over to say hi. “You’re still roughing it with this one, huh?” he asks Nolan.

Nolan says, “Just can’t seem to get rid of him,” while Ry sidles up to Travis, surreptitiously asking him, “You nailed that hunk down yet?”

“Yes,” Travis laughs.

“They’re dating,” Ryanne confirms to Claude with a nod.

G claps his hand onto Nolan’s shoulder. “I’d say congrats but mostly I’m just sorry for you.”

“Asshole,” Travis says while Claude grins at him.

“At least now you won’t get so sad drunk you try to piss in Ry’s garden shed, eh?”

Travis looks at Ryanne, horrified, and she smiles grimly. “You did. But I forgive you.”

Nolan wraps his arm around Travis’s shoulders as they walk back up to the truck for the canoe.

“Fuck, that was a bad night,” he says. Nolan hugs him closer.

They lug the canoe down to the lake, dodging kids as they run over asking for rides, shouting over each other for his attention, _Teeks, Teeks, Teeks_. Travis promises them all they’ll go out on the water later. Travis finds Carter and Provy sitting at a table together, introduces Nolan to them. They shoot the shit, talk hockey, argue about what Canadian team might have a shot at the cup this year. They start talking about Indie Rock bands that Travis has never heard of, and Travis squeezes Nolan’s thigh under the table, leaves them to it. Nolan doesn’t need Travis to babysit him, and Provy and Carter are the chillest guys Travis has ever met, definitely people Travis could see Nolan being friends with. He finds Claire and Lawson smoking the competition at cornhole.

“Where’s prince charming?” Law asks. Travis nods toward the table, and Lawson gives Travis a look. “Dangerous to let him find out there’s better options in this town than you.”

“Fuck you,” Travis says, truly and deeply more heartfelt than he ever has before.

“Hey, Nolan,” Lawson calls loud enough for everyone to hear. When Nolan turns to look, he continues, “Get over here with your boyfriend so Claire and I can dust your asses.”

“Hope you weren’t trying to keep that quiet,” Claire mutters, jabbing Lawson in the ribs. Law looks legitimately worried for a second and Travis laughs at his dumb face.

Claire and Lawson pull out the W, but Nolan is unsurprisingly as good at tossing beanbags as he is at everything else he does and it ends up close. Travis gets G to collect up some kid sized life jackets and starts rowing the kids around the lake, one of the older kids sat up front to help him paddle and a couple of the little ones stacked in a row down the middle for each trip. He doesn’t manage to tip anyone in despite one of the little monsters’ best efforts, rocking the canoe purposefully until one of the other kids starts crying. Travis paddles them around until his shoulders can’t take it anymore.

He finds Nolan, leans into his side and grabs his hand, placing it on his back suggestively. Nolan’s deep into a conversation with Provy about something, it sounds boring as hell but Travis doesn’t want to interrupt. Nolan glances at him questioningly eventually when Travis keeps bumping into him, and Travis says, “Rub.” Nolan keeps talking about whatever he’s talking about and digs his thumb into the knot between Travis’s shoulder blades, rubbing it away.

The bonfire gets lit around dusk, the booze start flowing with all the kids cleared out, and someone’s broken out a guitar. Travis gets Nolan to help him load the canoe back into the truck before it’s too dark, then takes him down to the water to sit on the dock to watch the last of the sunset, feet in the water.

“I’m really glad I didn’t screw this up,” Travis says.

Nolan leans into his side, arm braced against the dock behind him. “Me too, Teeks,” he says quietly, fondly.

Travis climbs on top of him, straddling his lap, and makes out with him until they’re both hard. It’s dark, everyone’s up in the yard, they’d be able to hear anyone that decided to come down to the dock. And Travis has done much stupider things than this out here, apparently. Nolan’s big hands are spread over his back, on his ass, holding them together. Still seems too risky to try to get them there and Travis pulls away, has to catch his breath and kick at the water until they’ve both calmed down enough to go back up to the party without being obvious. Lawson catcalls at them anyway when they come back up the hill because he’s an asshole.

While Nolan’s still up, Travis tries to get him to dance with him but he sits firmly onto a log and won’t move no matter how much Travis shimmies around him. He steals Claire away from Law instead, dancing her around the bonfire, giggling with her every time they stumble into someone, step on someone’s feet. Travis stayed sober to drive Nolan home, but Claire is very decidedly not sober and she keeps spinning him into random people until she finally finds Nolan and dumps Travis into his lap. Travis stays there, Nolan warm and comfortable beneath him.

Whoever has the guitar starts playing Wonderwall and Nolan boos softly into Travis’s shoulder, so Travis starts belting out the lyrics. Nolan fights to try and cover his mouth, and Travis keeps singing through laugher until everyone is singing along with him. Nolan seethes, silent behind him, and Travis leans back into him, holding his hands down and crooning, “and after all, you’re my wonderwall,” right into his ear.

“I hate you. I hate you so much,” Nolan whispers back.

Travis smiles against the side of his neck, thrilled. “You ready to go home?”

Nolan pulls back, meets his eyes in the flickering firelight and says, “Yeah.”

They make the rounds, saying goodbye. Carter gets up to hug them, because he’s Carter and that’s just how he is. Provy gives them fist bumps. Lawson whines about how if Carter gets hugs than he definitely gets hugs, nearly tipping them over logs with his enthusiasm.

“I really am very happy for you,” G says, hugging Travis, ever the sentimental drunk.

“He’s so beefy,” Ry whispers, probably louder than she means to after hugging Nolan. Travis snorts, hugging her.

Travis holds Nolan’s hand on the drive home, thinks about how different it is this time. How much better. “Can you stay over tonight?” he asks.

Nolan’s thumb ghosts over his knuckles. “Yeah.”

The house is dark when they get home. Travis flicks the front hall light on, Murphy bumping between them as they try to take their shoes off. Nolan links their fingers together, follows him upstairs, and Travis cuts the lights again as they go. He leaves the light on in his room and sits on the edge of the bed, holds Nolan back when he tries to join him. “Take your clothes off.”

“You first,” Nolan goads. Travis strips his shirt off and tosses it at him, kicks his shorts in his direction while he’s at it. He leans back on his palms in his underwear and waits while Nolan does the same.

“There’s stuff in the desk drawer, if you want to,” Travis says vaguely, watching Nolan’s eyebrows crinkle in confusion as he reaches over and pulls the drawer open. Travis was talking about the condoms and lube he’d bought and stashed there, but Nolan reaches for his folded tie instead, pulling it out, and then brushing his fingers over the row of sucker sticks, the movie ticket stub from when they went together, a fishing hook that got bent on a bad cast and Travis had to dislodge from a tree branch after Nolan broke his line pulling on it.

“I wondered if you were saving these to make me some kind of weird art project that I was going to have to pretend to think was cute,” Nolan says, folding the tie carefully back into the drawer and closing it. “Turns out you’re just a big softy.”

“I’m hard,” Travis argues. “Rock hard.”

Nolan touches his lips, big hands cupping his jaw, and kisses him. “That was the worst joke you’ve ever told.” Travis pulls him down on top of him and rolls them further into bed, stretches out half on top of him and then realizes that someone is going to have to get up to turn the light off.

Neither of them does, lying quietly together, hands roaming with no real purpose at all. Travis sighs and presses a kiss to Nolan’s chin before disentangling himself. He stands, taking a moment to appreciate Nolan sprawled across his bed—all long, loose limbs and heavy eyelids—before he flicks the light off. He finds the edge of the bed, and then Nolan’s hand, pressing a kiss to his fingers, his palm, his wrist, before sinking back into the bed with him, fitting right into the crook of his arm like it was made for him.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers into the darkness.

Nolan rolls against him, wrapping Travis’s whole body up in his warmth. “I think I’m in love with you too.” He breathes the words into the ticklish skin right behind his ear, and Travis knows he’s going to remember them forever.


End file.
